


Wish You Were Here

by grumblesandmumbles



Series: The "Wish You Were Here" Universe [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - 1970s, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Coming of Age, Drinking to Cope, Gen, Inspired by Music, M/M, Marijuana, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Original Male Character(s) - Freeform, POV Alternating, POV Ian, POV Mickey, Pining, Shameless Big Bang, Vietnam War, Woodstock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-11 20:30:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4451162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumblesandmumbles/pseuds/grumblesandmumbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey are coming of age in a time of great social and political upheaval in the United States and the world. How will they get through the Vietnam War, the gay rights movement and their individual struggles, both together and apart?</p><p>I encourage you to listen along to the companion playlist on YouTube. You can find that <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DIoKr9VDg3A&list=PL1zYTSq9eYQVV3KNT1yl2k6j7r9z1jcZr">right here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish You Were Here

**1968**

 

**AUGUST**

 

_Ian– Buffalo Springfield – For What It’s Worth_

 

Ian and Lip sat together in the living room sharing a joint.

School was back in session the next day, and they were soaking up the last moments of summer the best they could. Lip had spent the better part of the day trying to find a way to talk to Ian. Everyone in the family had been concerned with Ian’s fixation on the Army, particularly Fiona. They weren’t patriotic or politically motivated, and couldn’t understand it. They were just a poor Irish family with absent parents and too many kids, trying to survive in the Southside of Chicago.

Ian’s older siblings were focused on just getting through each day, then each week, and so on. His younger siblings were slowly starting to understand that they had to contribute however they could to keep things afloat too. None of them seemed to have time for long term goals, for dreams, for future planning... apart from Ian.

For all of his childhood, Ian had dreamed of being in the Army and serving his country. He was going to be an officer. He participated in Junior ROTC, had done volunteer work in support of World War I and II veterans, and looked forward to turning 18 so he could enlist to serve in Vietnam. With public sentiment turning strongly against the war, his family was equally concerned not just with what could happen to him overseas, but what could happen to him at home if he expressed his feelings to the wrong people.

So Fiona had enlisted Lip to try to talk some sense into Ian. They were close, and if anyone could get through to Ian, she hoped it was Lip. Between the Tet Offensive, the Viet Cong and the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy, anti-war and anti-violence initiatives were at an all-time high. Fiona hadn’t finished high school, but she was no slouch, and she kept up with current events. Too many veterans were coming home broken, if at all, and being treated even worse once they got back. Fiona couldn’t bear the idea of Ian being among them.

Lip took a toke of the joint in his hand, ready for the resistance he knew was coming his way.

"Ian, man, you have to get out of this rut you’re in. You need to find a job or something and get over this Army crap."

Ian reached over and took the joint, taking two short hits back to back and holding them in before blowing the smoke out in a rush. "Don’t ruin my high, man. I’m just starting to feel it. And it’s _not_ crap. It’s my dream."

"To what, fight for something you don’t even understand?"

"To fight for my country! We are at _war_ Lip, and it’s our duty to defend and honor our country, what more do I need to know?"

"Fine, I understand that, but you’re not even 16 yet. Who knows if we’ll even be at war by the time you’re 18? What else do you have planned? You need to think about these things."

Ian scowled and stuck his chin out petulantly. He knew his brother was right, but he’d be damned if he was going to just say so.

“Will you at least lay off if I find an after school job?”

Lip nodded, and Ian was satisfied that it was settled. Ian took another big hit off of the joint and passed it back to his brother, laying down on the couch and chasing the buzz that Lip seemed determined to keep out of his reach. Just one more thing he couldn’t quite grasp. He couldn’t explain it, but it felt like there were a lot of things that were in his periphery, always there but never attainable. It was a feeling that had plagued him for years.

A week later as Ian was walking home from school, he passed a corner store with a “Help Wanted” sign in the window. He went inside and found a young, stern looking woman.

“Can I help you?” She asked him stiffly.

“I wanted to inquire about the sign in your window?”

“Are you asking or telling me?" The woman replied with a challenging raise of her eyebrows.

Ian couldn’t help but think she was pretty rough around the edges. “Um, telling ma’am.”

She softened at his polite response. “What’s your name?”

“Ian. Ian Gallagher.”

“Irish. That could help around here. Are you strong? Tough?”

“Well ma’am, I can do a hundred pushups at a time, run a six minute mile, and hit a freckle from 200 yards with an M16… ROTC.”

She was impressed. “I’m going to need at least three afternoons a week after school, and a day on the weekend. Think you can do that?”

He nodded enthusiastically and she finally cracked a small smile.

“You’re hired. I’m Linda, by the way. You answer to me or my husband, Kash. Not that he’ll ask much of you, he’s a bit soft. But don’t think you can get one over on us. I _always_ find out. I know Homecoming is this week, so you can start next week. Come back on Monday after school.”

Ian walked the rest of the way home with a spring in his step. He never thought getting a job would be that easy. When he told his family at dinner that he found employment, no one was more excited than Fiona. As hard as she worked, she could never find anything steady, and Lip was less about an honest day’s work and more about a quick hustle. With two useless parents and three siblings too young to contribute much, if at all, someone bringing home steady pay would be a big help. She may have even hugged Ian just a little harder before bed that night.

 

_Mickey– The Who – My Generation_

 

No one was sure why Mickey Milkovich bothered to set foot in the halls of the high school. It wasn’t like he ever went to class. Most of his days were spent smoking in the bathroom, selling grass and terrorizing any fool who messed with his sister, Mandy. There were other Milkoviches, but they were all old enough to have quit keeping up appearances, and were never seen near the school anymore.

Mickey was in his usual place, holding court in the bathroom. He checked the mirror, smoothing a stray lock of hair back into his pompadour before rolling his cigarette box into the sleeve of his white t-shirt and leaving to roam the halls. He ran into Mandy and her two friends, Jenny and Sally, loitering by their lockers before class. He went over to greet his sister, pointedly ignoring her friends. They looked at him like he hung the moon. He thought they were two of the biggest dipsticks he’d ever seen.

“Mickey,” Jenny purred at him, in what she thought was her most alluring voice. “Are you going to homecoming tomorrow?”

He shrugged noncommittally. “I’ll probably swing through, there’s always someone looking to score some grass.”

She eyed him and smiled. “Far out!”

He did everything in his power not to roll his eyes. Not that he cared about offending her, but he didn’t want to hear Mandy’s mouth. It was hard for any Milkovich to make friends, their last name a deterrent. The fact that she had found two people who didn’t seem bothered by it was something she clung to harder than she liked to admit, so he tried to leave her alone. She was tough, but she wasn’t the loner he was.

Mickey said goodbye to Mandy, once again ignoring the other two girls. He had other business to attend to. He headed back to the bathroom and found who he was looking for.

“Lip, just the man I wanted to see.”

Lip looked at him warily. “Hello Mickey. What’s your bag, man?”

“Was hoping we could make a trade. You do this paper for me, I give you a joint. You know my stuff is primo.”

Lip did, in fact, know that Mickey’s grass was the best. He certainly smoked enough of it when he could afford to. He thought over the deal and said, “Let me see the assignment.”

Mickey pulled a crumpled paper from his back pocket and Lip read it over. Finally he nodded and extended his hand to shake. “Not sure why you’re bothering to submit school work, but if you make it two joints, you have a deal.”

Mickey accepted his hand and left the bathroom. He’d had enough school for the day and was ready to make some arrangements to get more grass to sell before the dance tomorrow.

 

_Ian – Frankie Valli– Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You_

 

Ian and Lip walked over to the school together for the homecoming dance, splitting up once they arrived. Lip found Karen Jackson, who he had been chasing for a little while. Ian had heard that she was loose, so he didn’t really know how much luck his brother would have going steady with her. Lip acted like that wasn’t what he wanted, but Ian knew it was. Ian didn’t have a lot of friends, on the other hand, so for a time he lingered off to the side just observing the crowd.

Last year, he would have at least had a chance to sneak off with Roger Spikey after the football game. Ian had known before their encounter that he was different, that he didn’t look at girls the way other boys did, but he hadn’t had a name for how he felt until a chance interaction after a couple of beers led to him and Roger fooling around. They definitely never went steady; that wasn’t an option for someone like them.

 _Queer, that’s what I am. Queer_. It was almost a relief to finally understand it. They had fun for a while, until Roger had graduated and left for the Navy. After that, Ian knew that he had no interest in having that kind of fun with a girl.

Ian noticed Mandy Milkovich standing off on the other side of the room. Her two girlfriends weren’t flanking her for once, and she seemed a little lost without them. Ian noticed them dancing with two senior boys. He didn’t know Mandy well, even though they were the same age and had been going to school together since elementary. They had a class or two together now, but they had never talked. He found himself watching her. Their English teacher, Mr. Harriman, came over and started making conversation. Ian noticed him ogling Mandy in her shift dress and patterned tights. Harriman was standing a little too close, and Ian noticed that the teacher had a woody.

For some reason, Mr. Harriman had his briefcase with him and had placed it on the floor. Ian darted over and slid it behind the teacher before popping up at Mandy’s side. Having Ian so close, Mr. Harriman moved to take a step back and tripped over the briefcase, falling backwards in front of all the students, who were hysterical with laughter. Red faced, he got up, grabbed the briefcase and rushed out of the room.

Mandy looked at Ian, really looked at him, for the first time. “Wow, that was bitchin’. You’re kind of like my hero now!”

Ian felt a blush creep up his neck and face. “It’s no big deal.”

She stood up on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Will you dance with me?”

He nodded and she linked their arms and pulled him onto the dance floor. The Twist started and the room started moving enthusiastically. Ian was tall and lanky and couldn’t twist all the way down to save his life. The two of them laughed at each other’s attempts, but in good fun. They danced to a few more songs before they took a break and Ian got them both some punch. Time slowly ticked on and eventually people started to leave, knowing they had to be up early for school in the morning.

Ian asked, “Can I walk you home?”

Mandy nodded and they left the dance. They ambled and chatted comfortably. Ian couldn’t believe they hadn’t talked sooner, because they were really getting along. Mandy was definitely tough, just like the rest of her family, but she was also sweet and endearing. They reached the front of her house and he made to say goodnight and leave. Before he had chance, however, she was grabbing him, kissing him urgently.

He managed to pull back from her arms. “Mandy, I… no, this isn’t… I can’t do this.”

She tried to pull him closer by the loops on his jeans. “Ian, no one cares. Come in!”

He gently pulled her hands off and took a step back. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” He let go of her hands and backed away a few steps before turning and walking quickly towards his own house.

 

**SEPTEMBER**

 

_ Mickey – Steppenwolf – Born To Be Wild _

 

Mickey was a man on a mission.

If there was one thing he didn’t tolerate, it was someone disrespecting his sister. They weren't close, but family was family. When Mandy had come to him and told him that Ian Gallagher had tried to get rough with her, he saw red. He knew who Gallagher was, one of the kids in that big Irish brood over on North Wallace, the one who had looked like a leprechaun growing up. Lip’s brother. He lit his cigarette as he made his way to find his brothers. They had a beating to hand out.

Mickey wasn’t stupid. He knew that he couldn’t catch Ian at school or he’d get expelled, and he didn’t want to deal with official consequences. He wouldn’t go to the house. He had been at a loss for a couple of weeks about when to get him until he found out where Ian worked.

He collected Joey and Jamie, the two brutes. Most of the Milkoviches were more diminutive, but not these two. Mickey always assumed there was some truth to the rumors that they had a different mother, but he didn’t think much of it either way. A Milkovich is a Milkovich is a Milkovich. They found their way to the store and Mickey burst in the door.

“IAN GALLAGHERRRRRRRRRRRRRR!! YOU MESSED WITH THE WRONG GIRL!!”

He saw Ian in the back holding a box. The box quickly hit the floor as he made for the back of the store, Mickey and company in hot pursuit. Ian barely had time to get into the storeroom and slam the door shut before Mickey was throwing himself onto it.

Mickey was incensed. “C’mere! Get out here! Open the door! Mandy told us what you did, you piece of shit! GET OUT HERE!”

Kash ran over from behind the register to try to calm things down. “He’s gone, there’s a door in the back of the storeroom.”

Mickey looked at his brothers and waved his arm. “Alley! ALLEY!” He grabbed Kash’s shirt and pulled him until their faces were almost touching. “Tell that skuzz this is not over.” He made his way out of the store as fast as he came, knocking over some merchandise on the way.

They made their way around the back of the store but there was no sign of Gallagher. They decided to let it go for now. There was only so far that the kid could go before they caught up with him. Mickey wasn’t concerned. They left for a few hours and then came back to lurk around, waiting to see if Ian reappeared, but they saw Kash close and leave alone. Mickey yelled some last remarks and he and his brothers hopped on the El to go home.

 

_ Ian – Tommy James and The Shondells – I Think We’re Alone Now _

 

Kash knocked on the door to the storeroom to let Ian know he could come out. Ian tried to explain that he hadn’t done anything, but there was no need. Kash knew that wasn’t Ian. He patted Ian’s back comfortingly and went to lock the door to the store so they could set about cleaning up the mess Mickey left behind.

Ian saw the way Kash looked at him. He knew that they were the same. He could feel Kash’s eyes on him as he moved through the store, restacking the cans and boxes that were scattered across the floor. He wondered how Kash could fake it, have a wife and children and living a pretend life. To Ian, the idea of that was almost painful. Kash was a good looking guy, but Ian didn’t want to get entangled in something so messy. He needed this job, and he was more than a little intimidated by Linda.

Ian’s primary concern was not Kash though, it was Mandy, and fixing whatever had happened. He didn’t know why she would tell her brother that he had done something to her, especially when the truth was quite the opposite. He knew he had to try to get to her. He figured it would be best to lay low and deal with it later.

When it was time to close, Kash offered Ian a ride home and told Ian to hide in the van while he locked up. They saw the Milkovich brothers lurking around but ignored them. They drove in silence. When they pulled up in front of Ian’s house, Kash seemed to want to say something, but Ian got out of the van before he had the chance.

“Thanks for the ride, see you at work.”

Ian went inside and headed straight up to his room where he found Lip smoking a cigarette, his face all cut up.

“What the hell happened to you?”

Lip stared at him for a moment. “Mickey Milkovich happened to me. Pretty sure it was meant for you.”

Ian winced. “Shit. Sorry man. I didn’t do anything though!”

Lip shrugged and took another puff of his cigarette. “That doesn’t matter. Mickey thinks you did. You know you’re going to have to take a beating for this eventually.”

Ian reached out and took the cigarette, putting it to his lips and taking a deep drag. “Yeah,” he replied as he exhaled the smoke out.

Ian didn’t sleep well, and the next morning he was up early. He figured he might as well face the music, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to go down without a fight. He got dressed and tiptoed down the stairs, grabbing the bat from its spot on the wall and leaving before everyone else was awake. Little did he know that Lip hadn’t slept well either, and followed him out of the house.

Ian hid across the street from the Milkovich house, waiting. He figured when he saw Mickey, he would just rush him and hope to get a few good hits in. If nothing else, it would probably earn him some respect. He was staring at the front door so intently that he didn’t even hear Lip approach until they were right next to each other.

“Jesus,” Ian said as he jumped back.

Lip settled in next to him and asked Ian about his game plan, which wasn’t much. Lip just stared at him for a moment before he picked up a rock to ready himself to jump in on Ian’s behalf. But before either of them could start anything, the front door opened and Mandy appeared. Ian watched her walk around the side of the house.

“Shit,” he said as he handed Lip the bat. He chased after her. “Mandy!”

She turned around and recoiled. “Get away from me you pervert!”

“Mandy, please, you have to call your brothers off!”

“You’re a dead man, Ian Gallagher!”

He knew that the only chance he had of getting out of a beating and straightening things out with her was to come clean. He steeled himself for whatever fallout might come and he blurted out his deepest secret.

“I’m queer, Mandy.”

She paused and slowly turned around. “What?”

“I’m… queer.”

Mandy didn’t speak again for what felt like an eternity. She stared at him, as if she was looking for it somehow. Finally she cocked her head to the side and said, “C’mon.”

She started walking in the direction she had been heading and Ian picked up his pace to fall in step with her. They walked for a while in silence, until they wound up walking down by the train yard. As they stepped their way through the tracks, Ian finally broke the silence between them.

“Mandy, I hope you know… It’s not like people say, being queer. It’s not… sick. I’m not a pervert. I can’t help how I feel.”

She considered his words. “They say it’s a mental illness.”

“Do I seem crazy?”

She shook her head no. He felt some of the tension dissipate at that point. They walked on a little more and this time Mandy broke the silence.

“So how long have you been…? You know? Queer?”

Ian thought about her question. “Forever, I guess. I knew for sure when I saw James Dean in _Rebel Without a Cause_.”

That made Mandy laugh, and Ian couldn’t explain how relieved he was. “James Dean huh? No way. Rock Hudson!”

Ian joined her laugh. “He’s totally queer.”

She looked at him with horror. “No way!”

The pair kept laughing and walking. Eventually they wound up at a playground and sat down side by side on two swings. Ian looked over at her seriously.

“You’re the only person who knows. I think Lip suspects, he’s dropped some hints, but I’ve never actually told him. I’m sure you can understand why I’ve never told anyone before.”

She nods thoughtfully. “I do. I won’t say anything.”

They rocked back and forth in the swings and Mandy looked over at him until he met her eye. “I can pretend to be your girlfriend at school so no one gives you a hard time.”

Ian was truly touched by her offer. “You’d do that for me?”

She shrugged, and Ian swore he saw her blushing a little under her heavy makeup. “Sure. I’ve never had a _real_ boyfriend before. Not that you’d be a real boyfriend, but a boyfriend I could do things with. Not just make out and fool around at the drive in.”

Mandy reached across the span between them and Ian matched her action, holding her hand between them. In that moment he was very grateful that he had gone up to her at the homecoming dance.

 

**OCTOBER**

 

_ Mickey – Elvis Presley – A Little Less Conversation _

 

Mickey was up at an uncharacteristically early hour, for him. Probably anxiety from knowing that his father would be out of jail and back home in the next week or two. He dragged himself out of bed, lit a cigarette and went to take a leak, rubbing his eyes blearily. He came out of the bathroom and wandered out to see where everyone was, finding only Mandy sitting at the kitchen table eating a pancake. She gestured with her fork towards a plate with more stacked on them.

“Feel free.”

Mickey nodded and took one off the stack, rolling it up and taking a bite, not bothering with a plate. He poured himself some coffee and sat down across from her. She was reading a newspaper, one that she had likely swiped from a neighbor.

“Oh Mick, back off Ian Gallagher. I talked to him this morning, we worked things out.”

He looked at her and rolled his eyes. They had been down this road before, and quite frankly, it made him mad.

“Don’t ask for my help then, you know, next time you get caught up with some daddy-o who you just run back to over and over.”

“Just put the kibosh on it, Mick.” Mandy got up and stomped off into her room, slamming the door behind her angrily.

Mickey threw her the bird and mumbled, “Climb it, Tarzan.”

He grabbed another pancake off the stack, shoving it in his mouth. He went back into his room and got dressed, fixed his hair and left. He had to track down Iggy and Colin to settle up some family business and collect some money before Terry reappeared.

\----------

A few days later, Mickey was passing by the Kash and Grab and he saw that Kash was working alone. It was early; Mickey and his brothers were picking up Terry that afternoon and the anxiety had him losing sleep. He couldn’t resist the idea of messing with the man a bit. He had never liked the guy, and Kash was an easy target. He was passive and he let the Milkoviches get away with pretty much anything. If the wife had been there, Mickey would have kept moving. He didn’t believe in messing with women like that anyway, but she was also much scarier than her husband.

Mickey entered the store and made his way through the aisles. He grabbed an assortment of items, tucking them under one arm while reaching for things with the other. He walked to the front of the store to flaunt it to Kash.

“Put it on my tab.”

“Mickey, put the stuff back. You’re not walking out of here without paying. It’s enough already.”

“You gonna do something about it, candyass?”

Kash reached under the counter and pulled out a gun. Where he got that was anyone’s guess. He leveled it in Mickey’s direction.

Mickey felt equal parts amused and furious. “You better plan to shoot me with that, Kash and Grab, or you’re going to regret ever pulling it out.”

He dropped the items and lunged for Kash, punching him right above the eye. In the flurry of activity, Kash dropped the gun on the floor. Mickey whaled on him a few more times before he grabbed the gun and a few of the items he had planned to take anyway, running out the door. He got around the corner before he tucked the gun in his waistband.

Mickey made his way back to his house and hid the gun in his dresser. It never hurt to have a gun ready and waiting, especially if you were willing to use it.

 

_ Ian – The Doors – Light My Fire _

 

When Ian got to work later that morning, he was surprised to find Kash holding a towel filled with ice against his eye, a mess of items on the floor and Linda berating him with a hell of a fury.

“Jesus, Kash. You might share a name with Cassius Clay, but you’re not even a fraction of the man he is! You let a teenage boy best you and steal from our store. I don’t care who his father is, it’s _enough_. Get it together.”

Ian stood awkwardly by the door until Linda noticed he was there. “Ian, please clean up this mess that Kash allowed to happen. I have to get the boys to Boy Scouts.” She stormed out of the store in a huff.

Kash dropped the towel on the counter and Ian took a look at the shiner that was quickly forming. “Shit Kash, what happened?”

He picked up the items while Kash filled him in on the events with Mickey. “Ian, he stole my gun. I didn’t even tell Linda that part. She’s going to kill me.”

Ian cringed at the idea of Linda’s wrath. “I’m friends with his sister Mandy. I’ll go over there, see if she can get it for me.”

Ian left the store and walked over to the Milkovich house. He wondered if what happened was some weird way of Mickey getting revenge for what he thought went down between him and Mandy. If that was the case, it was certainly misguided. He got to the house and saw a sad attempt at some decorations on the fence and a welcome banner hanging above the porch. He didn’t pay it much mind as he knocked on the front door.

Mandy opened it and gave him a big smile in greeting. “Hey Ian, you change your mind about that movie?”

He looked behind her for a sign of her brother. “Where’s Mickey?”

“Downstate picking up our dad from prison, why?”

Ian pushed past her and entered the house, looking for Mickey’s room. He heard Mandy yell at him but he ignored her. When he found the right bedroom he started tossing the room, looking for the gun. Mandy was yelling at him, asking him what he wanted, and after a few wasted minutes of searching he finally answered.

“He hit Kash, okay? Went to the store and took a bunch of stuff, including Kash’s gun.”

She stopped him from rummaging through the drawers and Ian finally had enough. “Tell him it ends now. No more messing with Kash. And tell him I want the gun back. Tonight.”

Ian left in a hurry, going back to work. He filled Kash in on what happened and waited impatiently to hear something from Mandy. The day passed, then the evening, and no word. Before it got too late, he walked back over to the Milkovich house and saw that there was a raging party going on. _Shit, they’re celebrating that their dad is home_. He figured he could get the gun in the morning.

\----------

Ian woke up early and decided to use it to his advantage. Considering the party that had been going on the night before, he assumed Mickey and the rest of the house would still be asleep. He got dressed and made his way the few blocks over to the Milkovich house. He noticed the yard was full of beer cans and an armchair. He wondered if that had been there before, and he just hadn’t noticed it.

Ian stormed up to the porch, realizing that if Mickey went on the attack he had nothing to defend himself with. He had left the bat at home. Looking around he noticed a tire iron off to the side and grabbed it. The front door was ajar and he pushed it open, before quietly entering the house.

There was a snoring man sleeping on the couch in nothing but his underwear. Ian assumed that must be their father. He tiptoed through the house and to Mickey’s room, pushing the door open slowly as not to alert him. When he was safely in the room with the door closed behind him, he made his move. He approached Mickey, lying prone on his stomach on the bed, fast asleep, and poked him firmly in the back with the tire iron.

Mickey stirred and said, “What the-“

“I want the gun back, Mickey.”

Mickey turned to look at him, clearly disoriented. “Gallagher?”

“The gun!”

“Alright.”

Mickey slowly rolled off the bed and made as if to reach for the drawer of his nightstand. When Ian leaned too close, Mickey attacked. He pushed Ian back into the wall behind the bed. The two wrestled around the room until somehow Mickey not only got a hold of the tire iron, but also had Ian pinned beneath him. For reasons Ian would never understand, Mickey didn’t hit him.

With Mickey sitting on his chest in his underwear, Ian realized with startled confusion that Mickey had an erection and it was pressing into him. At first, he thought it was just morning wood, but with Mickey straddling him and panting, things in Ian’s mind started to jumble. He glanced up to gauge the look on Mickey’s face.

They looked at each other for a long beat before Mickey dropped the tire iron and pulled his shirt over his head. Ian scrambled to get undressed, excitement dawning along with comprehension. Mickey climbed off of him as Ian clambered off the bed, struggling with his shirt until Mickey reached over and yanked at it for him. He lay back on the mattress and Ian tugged roughly at his pants in a frenzy.

There was no foreplay, barely any lead in. It was strictly down and dirty. Mickey reached between them and started jerking off Ian frantically, before suddenly stopping and dropping down on all fours.

“Hurry up and do this, tough guy, before my dad wakes up!”

Ian looked around for some sort of lubricant and spotted a jar of Vaseline on the nightstand. He grabbed it and put some on two fingers, using one to work Mickey open. He quickly inserted the second digit and scissored. He felt Mickey glaring at him and figured he better hurry the hell up. He fumbled for a condom in his wallet and rolled it over his shaft, taking more Vaseline and working himself over as fast as he could. He lined himself up, bracing one hand on Mickey’s shoulder while he used the other to guide himself in to Mickey’s ass.

He pushed in slowly while Mickey hissed, giving him a chance to adjust. When he bottomed out, he withdrew most of the way before pushing forward again, this time a little faster. As they adjusted to each other, Ian began to pick up speed with urgent need, but there was little finesse. He moved in and out, in and out, in and out. Mickey didn’t seem to care though. He was panting and gripping the sheet below him while he took it. Ian shifted his position and the change in angle elicited a deep gasp from Mickey’s lips. Ian took the cue and drove forward at that same angle over and over, pounding steadily into the boy in front of him. Mickey was biting his lip so hard that at first it flushed pink and then started getting white. He couldn’t take it.  Mickey reached between his legs and started jerking his own cock in time with Ian’s thrusts.

Mickey panted a few more times, crying out a desperate, “Oh shit!” before coming in spurts on his sheets, a shudder running through his body. Mickey clenched around Ian’s cock as he came, and the tightening grip pushed Ian over the edge towards his own orgasm a minute later.

After a minute of heavy panting, Ian pulled out of Mickey and removed the condom, tying it off. He was looking for a garbage can to drop it in when they heard footsteps approaching.

“Oh fuck!”

There was no time to hide their clothes, or much else. They scrambled to get under the blanket as fast as they could before Terry came walking through the room. He didn’t seem to notice the boys as he stumbled through to the connecting bathroom. Ian listened intently as he peed and lit a cigarette. When he came out he almost made it past them without stopping, when he turned and looked at them.

“Put some clothes on, you two look like a couple of queers.” He sneered at the boys.

He left, and when they could hear him talking to Mandy outside they breathed a mutual sigh of relief. Ian and Mickey both laid back for a minute or two to get their bearings, needing to let their nerves settle down after the close encounter. Finally they both rose from the bed. Mickey pulled on his pajama pants and while Ian was finishing getting dressed, he fumbled through his dresser until he found the gun he stole from Kash. He tossed it on the bed in Ian’s line of sight. Ian looked at the gun, then at Mickey. Ian stepped closer to the other boy but Mickey walked past him.

“Get bent, Gallagher. You kiss me and I’ll cut your fuckin’ tongue out.”

Mickey left the room, leaving Ian to finish and see himself out. He tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans and tried to sneak out, but Mandy spotted him. He was nervous that she would catch on to what happened, but she just seemed relieved that Ian was fine and that he had retrieved the gun. Ian rushed to leave before Mandy caught on, but not before stealing one last glance at Mickey’s back sitting at their kitchen table.

 

_ Mickey – Jimi Hendrix – Purple Haze _

 

It was bad enough that Terry was back on the scene, but the fact that Mickey had to go with Iggy and Colin to pick him up from prison really pissed him off. Regardless, he knew he had to keep up appearances, plaster a smile on his face and just get through it. Mandy had halfheartedly decorated the fence and hung the banner up outside, the same sad banner they always used when Terry came home from a prison stint, and Mickey had taken it all in as they pulled away. He thought it was fitting how sad it looked.

The ride was a few hours, and Mickey settled in for a snooze. When they got to the prison, there were lots of smiles, hugs with clapped backs, cigarettes offered and, once Terry was settled comfortably in the car, a flask of alcohol. He nipped at it eagerly, ready to get the welcome party started early. They made it back to the Southside in record time, and it felt as if every cousin and cohort they had showed up for the festivities. Joints were being rolled as fast as they could be smoked, and the mood was a good one.

As the day turned into evening and then into night, people slowly drifted off. Eventually Mickey, high and reasonably drunk, stumbled into his room and flopped down face first on his bed. He must have fallen asleep quickly; he didn’t recall anything else until he was startled awake by cold metal poking the exposed skin on his shoulder.

“I want the gun back, Mickey.”

He knew the voice, but he didn’t know why it was in his house. He willed the cobwebs away that were clogging his thought process.

“Gallagher?”

It all started coming back to him. _Kash. The gun I ripped off. That prick, I can’t believe he sent a kid to get it back_. He made to get up and jumped Ian when he least expected it. As they wrestled, he felt his excitement piqued. When he wound up straddling Ian’s chest, looking down at him, his arousal took over. He could see that Ian knew he was hard, and instead of the look of disgust or anger he had expected, Ian was curious. In a rare moment of impulse, Mickey just went for it.

Mickey’s actions often seemed frenetic to others, but every move he ever made was actually very calculated. You didn’t grow up with a father like Terry Milkovich without learning from consequences or regrets. But now, for once in his life, he didn’t think. He just went with what was happening. His surprise came when he saw how willing and eager Ian was to go down this path with him.

Mickey pulled Ian’s shirt off, noticing the hint of ab muscles that were forming on his torso. Ian got on the bed with him and he reached for Ian’s cock, giving it short, fast strokes to help get him to his full hardness. Mickey couldn’t help but noticed how well endowed he was. Mickey wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to take this, but _fuck_ , he wasn’t turning back now. He maneuvered himself onto his hands and knees to make it clear to Ian what he wanted.

“Hurry up and do this, tough guy, before my dad wakes up!”

He saw Ian reach for the jar which Mickey had, thankfully, left there the other day. He first felt one and then two fingers flexing inside of him, and it was all he could do to stop himself from shouting at Ian to get a move on. Ian must have felt the sense of urgency because the next thing Mickey knew, he heard the crinkling of the condom wrapper and felt the push.

The pain was unquestionable, but riding under the surface of it was intense pleasure. Mickey was careful to not allow himself to moan or express how good it felt, for fear of being overheard. He held himself together until Ian hit something deep inside and he gasped before he could stop himself. Ian honed in on it, and Mickey knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold out for long. He put his hand between his legs. He could feel precome already leaking out of him and he used his hand to spread it over his cock, tugging himself frantically and chasing his orgasm until it ripped through him.

After he came, he hung his head down trying to gather himself while Ian finished on top of him. He felt Ian’s body stutter into him and a spasm as Ian choked out his own orgasm with a few more pumps. They barely got to rest and enjoy the moment before Mickey heard Terry’s footsteps heading their way. At that point, he didn’t think; he just reacted. That’s how it was being the child of Terry Milkovich. He scrambled under the blanket, Ian following suit, and prepared himself for the worst.

When Terry just wandered in and out hardly batting an eye, Mickey couldn’t believe it. But he knew he couldn’t linger in there, or he would risk making the situation much worse. He grabbed his pants off the floor and dragged them up and over his hips. He watched Ian putting his clothes on, back to Mickey, and he thought Ian had a lot of nerve barging into the Milkovich house the way he did. Mickey liked that, respected it even. It was why he fished the gun out of the drawer it had been hiding in and tossed it on the bed. He knew he had to make his escape, and he left the room, hoping that Ian was smart enough to just leave and not try to come sit with everyone.

Mickey made his way to the kitchen table and sat down across from Terry, making a plate for himself of the sausage and eggs Mandy had cooked. They sat together, eating and drinking their coffee in silence, nursing their respective hangovers, Mickey fidgeted in his seat, still feeling the fullness inside him from just a few minutes before. He caught Ian leaving out of the corner of his eye.

Mickey hoped Ian Gallagher didn’t have a big mouth. There was no way Mickey could allow this to get around. It had been good, but it was a one-time thing.

 

**DECEMBER**

 

_ Mickey – The Beatles – Hey Jude _

 

What was supposed to happen once happened a second time, then a third, and somehow turned into a regular occurrence. In the beginning, Mickey told himself that each time was the last time, but eventually he stopped trying to tell himself anything at all. He also found himself finding an excuse or a reason to hang around when Ian was at the house with Mandy. When she had first told Mickey that Ian was her boyfriend, he almost laughed in her face. He wondered if she knew the truth, and if so, what had possessed her to be Ian’s fake girlfriend.

But while Mickey couldn’t seem to stop himself from getting together with Ian, he still drew the line at certain things. They didn’t kiss, they weren’t affectionate, and he very much kept Ian at arm’s length. Ian, for whatever reason, seemed to take it all in stride. Mickey tried to keep everything on a very casual level, and the arrangement had worked fine until one day, when the dynamic shifted for good.

Mickey was home and the mood was tense. Terry was drunk and angry about something. Anything. Everything. It didn’t matter when he got belligerent like this, he would just find things to be angry about. Mickey had been hiding out in his room when he heard loud knocking on the door. He rushed to answer it before Terry could get his bearings and do it, figuring he would be doing the person on the other side a favor. He opened the door and Ian was in front of him. It was clear that something had Ian upset. When he spoke to Mickey, his voice was strained.

“I need to see you.”

“ _Not_ a good time.” As if to prove Mickey’s point, Terry’s obviously drunk voice started yelling loudly in the background.

Ian’s voice shook. “I don’t know where else to go.”

Mickey felt himself soften at the emotion in Ian’s voice, and a part of him hated himself for it. “Don’t you have work today?”

Ian sighed. “I was supposed to be there now. Linda’s going to have my ass.”

Mickey bit his lip, thinking. “I’ll meet you there in 20.”

He closed the door before Ian could say anything else. He went back into his room and waited until Terry seemed to quiet down. He slowly reentered the living room and saw that Terry had passed out on the couch. He took the opportunity to sneak out. He headed quickly over to the Kash and Grab and when he got there, saw that they were alone. Ian immediately went over and locked the front door. He led Mickey into the freezer, behind the stock.

“Gallagher, I’m not some fairy, _alright_? You can’t just show up at my house like that whenever you want. That’s not how this goes.”

Ian ran his hands over Mickey’s body in a way that he normally would have rejected. Should have, probably, considering what he had just said. At first, Mickey did push his hands away, but eventually he let Ian do it. He knew it made him a hypocrite, but couldn’t find it in himself to truly push Ian away. Instead, Mickey tried to take comfort in the fact that the two of them each shared the same dark secret. Ian reached down to unzip Mickey’s jeans and pushed them down to his knees.

They had fooled around in there a few times and Ian had hidden a jar of Vaseline for easy access. He took some out of it and rubbed it in his hands to warm it up. He made quick work of prepping Mickey before he was putting on a condom and pushing forward. Mickey braced himself against the metal shelf while Ian thrust into him. When he felt Ian’s arm snake over and Ian’s hand fasten over his, he almost put a stop to the whole thing. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t bring himself to push Ian away. Because, although he may never admit it, he did like Ian. If this brought him some comfort from whatever was upsetting him, Mickey would just shut up about it. Just this once, though. It was always just this once.

Mickey let himself get lost in the moment, and when Ian pressed his face to the back of Mickey’s neck, he actually tilted his head back into the contact, just a little. They were so caught up in what they were doing that he didn’t notice the door to the freezer open until he felt Ian withdraw from him. Mickey immediately felt the loss and was about to ask Ian why he stopped when he turned and saw Kash staring at them from the door.

He hitched his pants and underwear up in one swift motion and ran out of the freezer, pushing Kash out of his way. However quick he was, he still had time to take note of the look on Kash’s face and it was clear that it was pure jealousy. Mickey ran out of the store and down a few blocks before he stopped to catch his breath. When he had calmed down from the initial shock, he regretted running out so fast. Kash was a pansy, and he would never do anything about it. Mickey decided right then that he was going back, and he was going to make sure that Kash understood that saying anything would be a big mistake.

When Mickey got back to the store, he saw Ian in the back and Kash right in front. He walked up behind Kash and spoke, a vaguely threatening tone in his voice.

“Fuckin’ right you keep your mouth shut.” He grabbed a Snickers from the counter. “You better keep it shut. You hear me?”

“Put the candy back, Mickey.”

He unwrapped it instead, taking a big bite of it and staring at Kash with amusement. “Mmm, that’s sweet. I like ‘em sweet. But then uh, so do you, huh?”

Kash paused with his back turned. Mickey would never know if it was his own words or Kash’s jealousy that led to what happened next, but he knew there was no going back either way.

“Put it back. Now.”

Kash turned around and leveled his gun at Mickey for the second time, but unlike the first time, he pulled the trigger. Three times, as a matter of fact. The first two went off behind Mickey but the third hit him right in the thigh. He collapsed backwards, his leg searing in pain.

“Fuck! Holy shit!”

Ian ran over and knelt down in front of him, pressing one hand onto the wound and the other firmly wrapped behind his neck. He wasn’t sure what Ian was saying, but his voice was soothing. He saw Kash dialing 911 and Ian stayed with him until they heard the sirens approaching.

“Mickey, I have to go. I’ll catch up with you.”

Mickey nodded and Ian ran out of the store. He curled himself up and covered the wound with his own hand until the ambulance arrived and the paramedics took him to the hospital. They removed the bullet and bandaged him up. Promptly afterwards, the officer who had been sent to stay with him formally arrested him. He was kept at the hospital until he eventually was brought in front of a judge.

He knew that he wasn’t going to tell the truth about what had happened prior to the shooting, and he convinced himself that maybe getting away from everything was for the best. He could regroup and get his focus back. Ian was a distraction that Mickey couldn’t afford. He pleaded no contest and was sentenced to juvenile detention. Mandy came to his hearing, the only person in his family to do so. He assumed she would tell Ian what happened. He sure as hell wasn’t going to.

 

_ Ian – Spencer Davis Group – Gimme Some Lovin’ _

 

 _Monica was back_. Ian was shaken to his core. He always felt that way when he saw his mother. _She doesn’t deserve to be called Mom. Not like she acts like one_. No one even knew where she had been, except Frank apparently, since he’d been the one to unearth her. That he had known where she was this whole time was even more of a slap in the face than the fact that she hadn’t been with them. The idea of her absence was easier when it was a total absence.

He got to the Kash and Grab, ready for Linda to chew him out, but luckily Kash was sitting behind the counter.

“Sorry I’m late, there was a situation at home.”

Kash smiled. “No problem. Everything okay?”

“Yea, it’s fine now.”

“I have to do some orders for the store. You okay here alone for a little bit?”

Ian nodded eagerly, glad to have the place to himself. Kash grabbed his jacket and made his way out. Ian took his place by the register. He thought about Mickey’s promise to meet him soon. He hoped that hadn’t been a lie just to get him to leave. He found a newspaper Kash had been reading and started skimming through it, trying to distract himself.

A couple of customers came in and out and Ian attended to them. The store got quiet again, and he resumed reading the paper. He had just managed to lose himself in an article about the war when he heard the bell tinkle. He looked up and there was Mickey, staring at him and biting his lip. Ian had gotten used to that sight over the past few months, it was something Mickey did constantly, but Ian never got enough of it. It made Mickey look endearingly innocent.

Ian shot up and came around the counter, reaching behind Mickey and locking the door. He walked towards the freezer with Mickey trailing behind him. Once they were inside the freezer, Mickey tried to reprimand Ian for showing up at his house like that, but his words had no real bite and Ian ignored his admonishing. Mickey barely had his coat off before Ian was touching him. Ian felt frantic, his emotions scattered. He needed the contact. He ran his hands down Mickey’s arms, grabbed at his hips. Mickey put up a front but let him.

Ian reached down, fumbling to get Mickey’s pants off. He wanted, no _needed,_ to be inside him. He managed to get the pants down and he turned Mickey around roughly. He snatched the Vaseline from its hiding spot and wasted no time. He worked Mickey over and next thing he knew, he was pushing into Mickey. It wasn’t enough. He saw Mickey’s hand gripping the shelf in front of them and he put his hand over it. Mickey’s hand was soft and smaller than Ian’s own. His longer fingers covered Mickey’s completely.

Ian finally felt his emotions start to settle down, the touch anchoring him somehow. The relief had him leaning forward and pressing his forehead to the back of Mickey’s neck. He was shocked when he felt Mickey lean his head back into the touch. He might have said something, if he hadn’t lifted his head right then and saw Kash watching them from the doorway. He quickly pulled out and saw Mickey turn to ask him what he was doing, until Mickey followed his line of sight and realized they were not alone.

Mickey was gone in a flash, while Ian fumbled to get dressed. Kash stood frozen and stared at him for a few moments, equal parts angry and jealous, before walking away. When Ian came out of the freezer, he saw Kash stocking some potato chips on a shelf.

“Kash, I-“

“Ian, please replenish the oranges.”

“I just-“

“Ian. The oranges.”

Ian went over to a box of oranges and took them to the produce area, stacking them one by one. When they were done, he tried to talk to Kash again.

“Kash-“

“Ian, can you get the box of soap from the storeroom and restock that?”

Ian was trying to apologize, but Kash was making it difficult. He went to the storeroom and retrieved the box. When he came back he saw Mickey had returned. He and Kash were exchanging words. Suddenly, Ian recognized the gun in Kash’s hand and heard the loud crack as he discharged it.

“Kash, what are you doing?! Stop!”

Neither Kash nor Mickey seemed to hear him, or even realize he was there. He saw Mickey yelling and Kash fired the gun a second time, this shot also landing somewhere behind Mickey. Then the third shot, Ian watched in horror  as Mickey recoiled, collapsing out of sight in one of the aisles.

Ian dropped the box and ran over to Mickey, who was writhing on the floor. Mickey was breathing heavily and trying to reach for his leg, tears in his eyes threatening to fall. Ian dropped to his knees in front of him and pressed his hand onto the wound on Mickey’s thigh.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay. You’re okay. Look at me.” He took his free hand and held the back of Mickey’s neck. “Mickey, look at me. You’re going to be fine, okay?”

Mickey didn’t seem to be listening but he did seem to settle with Ian there. There were sirens in the distance and Ian waited, listening to see if they moved closer or farther away. The noise got louder and louder and Ian knew he should leave. He waited until the last minute when he saw the lights flashing outside. He looked at Mickey, waiting until Mickey looked back and caught his eye.

“Mickey, I have to go. I’ll catch up with you.”

He squeezed the back of Mickey’s neck and got up, running out the back door into the alley as cops and paramedics piled through the front door.

\-----------

Ian caught up with Lip at Sheila Jackson’s house, sitting outside smoking a cigarette. He knew the rest of his siblings were inside, watching Frank and Monica arguing about God only knew what. Ian couldn’t care less. He flopped down next to Lip on the stairs, telling him about the shooting. Thankfully, Lip didn’t ask for any details. They moved inside and Ian mindlessly watched the drama unfolding around him for a while. He was too busy thinking about Mickey. Finally, he got sick of pretending to be interested in the nonsense and he left. He snuck over to the Milkovich house and threw pebbles at Mandy’s window until he saw the light come on.

She opened the window and whispered, “Hey. Not a good time. Dad’s on the warpath. Mickey got shot, he’s at the hospital and the cops are waiting to charge him for petit robbery.”

“I know, Kash shot him. I wanted to come by and see if you knew.”

“Shit. Well, knowing Mickey I’m sure he deserved it. But he’s probably going to get time in juvie for this.”

“I know,” Ian sighed. He wanted so badly to tell her that her brother didn’t deserve it, that he wasn’t as bad as everyone thought, but he couldn’t. “Keep me posted on what happens.”

She waved and retreated into the window. Ian, exhausted by the endless day, stumbled back home, ready to just fall into bed. He went to use the bathroom first and realized for the first time that he had blood on his hands. Mickey’s blood. He turned on the faucet in the sink and ran his hands under to rinse them. As Ian watched the water turn pink and swirl down the drain, he got a sense of foreboding that things were about to change for the worse. He pushed the feeling aside, dried his hands, and went to bed.

\----------

It was a few days before Ian heard anymore about Mickey. He and Lip ran into Mandy as they were all arriving at school on the last day before Christmas break. She came over to say hello, her gaze lingering on Lip for just a moment.

Lip asked, “How’s Mickey?”

Mandy sighed. “Well, he pled no contest and they sentenced him, but I don’t know for how long. He was relocated to the juvenile detention center. He didn’t even try to fight the charge. I don’t get it.”

Ian felt the air rush out of his lungs. “I’ve got to go take care of something. Can you guys get my assignments for the break? Tell them I’m sick.”

He rushed off, leaving Lip and Mandy together. He heard them yelling behind him, asking where he was going, but he didn’t turn around. When he got off of school grounds, he began first jogging and then running until he found himself at the Kash and Grab.

He stormed in and went straight to the counter, staring at Kash. “Mickey’s in juvie because of you.”

Kash rolled his eyes and said, “No, Mickey is in juvie because of Mickey. Maybe he’ll learn not to steal.”

Ian leaned forward and put as much menace into his voice as he could manage. “Please, we both know you didn’t shoot Mickey over a candy bar.”

Kash froze, eyeing Ian warily. “What do you want?”

“Money. For Mickey’s commissary account. It’s the least you can do.”

“This is blackmail!”

“You can call it whatever you want, but unless you want me to tell your wife and the entire neighborhood about the way you stare at a 16 year old boy, I suggest you pony up.”

Kash opened the register and cleaned it out, giving all of the bills to Ian. “You’re making a mistake, risking so much for this kid. He’ll never be what you want. He’s going to break your heart, Ian.”

Ian folded the money into a wad and shoved it in his pocket, ignoring Kash’s statement. As he walked out the door, he added one last statement of his own. “Oh, and by the way - I quit.”

 

**1969**

 

**JANUARY**

 

_ Ian – Spiral Starecase – More Today Than Yesterday _

 

With the obligations of the holidays, Ian didn’t get a chance to visit Mickey in juvie until after the new year. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going, not even Mandy. He knew that everyone would have questions that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer. So he waited for a day he could slip away unmissed, got on a bus and made the trip on his own. After he waited for what seemed to be hours, but was probably only minutes, he was finally led into a room and seated in a glass booth.

Ian fidgeted nervously while he waited. Finally, Mickey was brought out. When he saw Ian sitting there, he paused for a brief moment before walking up and sitting down opposite him, looking directly at him through the hard plastic barrier. There was a phone on each side and when Mickey picked up his end, Ian did too.

“You shouldn’t be here, Gallagher.” He muttered into the mouthpiece.

“Be cool, its fine. They think I’m your cousin.”

Mickey visibly relaxed. “Fine. I guess that was you who put money in my commissary?”

Ian nodded. “Courtesy of Kash. Told him I’d tell everyone he was a pervert if he didn’t give me the green.”

Mickey was impressed, and couldn’t hide his smile. “Thanks.”

They made small talk for a little while. Mickey told Ian about being in juvenile hall; the bad food, the terrible company. Ian told Mickey about the latest guy that Mandy was hanging out with and a new racket Lip was working on to make money. It was the most conversation the two of them had ever had, and Ian found it comforting how easily it came. But there was something that he wanted to know, and he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“How long?”

Mickey didn’t need to ask what Ian meant. “Probably a few months, if I don’t stab someone in this place. Bunch of mongrels.”

Ian leaned forward and hunched his shoulders, hiding his next words carefully so that no one but Mickey saw or heard them. “I… I miss you.”

Mickey glared at him and gave Ian his best scowl. “You say that again and I’ll rip your tongue out of your head.”

He looked away, but not before Ian caught a hint of a smirk at the corners of Mickey’s lips. Ian smiled knowingly at him in return.

Mickey glanced up at the clock on the wall and said, “You should go, get back before it gets late. It’ll go quicker than you think.”

Ian nodded and Mickey started to hang up but Ian motioned him to wait. “Mick… Don’t do anything to extend your stay. Just… get home.”

Mickey was quiet for a few moments before he finally said, “No promises, but I’ll try.”

They hung up the handsets and Ian watched as the guard returned to escort Mickey back to his cell. Mickey looked back one last time before he was taken through the door, and Ian waved. He made his way out of the building and back to the bus shelter to head home. And if he sat tucked away in the very back corner of the bus and cried a little bit, it was no one’s business but his own.

 

**APRIL**

 

_ Mickey – The Doors – Touch Me _

 

By some miracle, Mickey managed to take Ian’s words to heart. He laid low while he was in juvie, staying out of trouble and, surprisingly for a Milkovich, was released early for good behavior. He called Mandy and gave her his release date, and she promised she would be there to greet him when he walked out the door.

Mickey didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but he had thought about Ian a lot while he was away. _Went to juvie to get away from this kid and thought about him the whole time. Ain't that some shit?_ Ian had only visited him the one time, and Mickey had secretly wished for more. But it had been a few months, and Mickey had no delusions about how much could change in a short time. He figured he would see Ian around the neighborhood, but he had no expectation that anything would continue, and he tried to convince himself that it was for the best.

Finally, his release date arrived. His street clothes were returned to him and he got changed, eager to get the hell out of there. After going through the required searches and signing a bunch of release forms, he was finally escorted to the last door and released. He strode outside as fast as he could, and he spotted Mandy waiting for him. What he hadn’t expected was Ian to be with her.

Mickey almost stumbled in shock at the sight. Ian had grown significantly in the past few months, and was wearing his hair in a close cropped military style, just a touch longer on the top and showing its natural wave. Mickey wanted to run his hand through that hair while they made up for lost time. He blinked back the image and approached his welcoming committee.

He gestured to Ian with his thumb. “What the hell is he doing here?”

Mandy came over and gave Mickey a big hug. “Offered to escort me. For protection. Said this was a bad neighborhood.”

Mickey snickered at the idea of his sister needing protection. Most men underestimated women, but Mickey knew better when it came to Mandy. She was a Milkovich, and a lot more dangerous than she let on. Mandy let him go and the three of them made their way out of the yard to catch the bus. Ian threw a casual arm over both Mickey and Mandy’s shoulders, but Mickey shrugged out of his grasp. This wasn’t the time or place.

During the bus ride back to the South Side, Ian and Mandy filled Mickey in on all the things he had missed while he was gone. Terry was back in prison, to no one’s surprise. Mickey couldn’t find it in himself to even pretend to care about it. Ian and Mandy both had new jobs; she as a waitress at a diner and he as a stock boy in one of the chain grocery stores. Mickey was glad that Ian left the Kash and Grab. When they got back to the neighborhood, Mandy rushed off, saying she had a shift at work, and leaving the boys alone.

Ian looked over at Mickey shyly and asked, “You want to hang out or something? Go to your pad?”

“Sure, but not there. I’ve been locked up for the past 4 months, don’t want to just sit home.”

Ian thought for a minute. “I know where we can go.”

They set off, stopping to get some beers on the way. Mickey wasn’t sure where Ian was taking him, but he didn’t ask. They chatted and walked and wound up at the neighborhood baseball field, making their way into one of the dugouts and flopping down next to each other on the bench.

Ian took his butterfly knife out of his pocket and started flipping it open and closed. Mickey plucked it out of Ian’s hand, stabbing one of the beer cans and chugging part of it, offering the rest to Ian who took it eagerly. He handed the knife back to Ian, who pocketed it.

For most of the walk, Ian had prattled on about Junior ROTC and all of the things they had him learning there, and how it would help him when he enlisted. Mickey couldn’t stop thinking about it, much as he wanted to.

“You really want to enlist?”

“Yeah. I want to be an officer.”

Mickey peeked at Ian from the corner of his eye. “Don’t officers get shot first?”

Ian gave him a playful shove and soon they were wrestling with each other and laughing. Ian managed to pin Mickey against the fence and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. Mickey freed himself and scowled.

“What did I tell you about that? I’m not into that fairy stuff.”

Ian rolled his eyes but backed off. He continued talking about his ROTC training until Mickey finally had enough and cut him off. Quite frankly, he didn’t want to think about Ian at war. The idea made him sick to his stomach for more reasons than he was willing to admit.

“You want to keep talking, or do you want to get on me already?”

Ian smirked and spun him around until he was pressed against the fence. He managed to unbutton and unzip his jeans before Ian dragged them down over his hips. He felt Ian’s mouth hot on his shoulders, but biting this time, not kissing. Ian was rough with him, probably his revenge for Mickey’s rejection of his affection, but he welcomed Ian's aggression. Mickey clung to the fence to keep himself steady while Ian slammed into him from behind.

After they were finished and dressed, they sat side by side on the bench sharing a cigarette. Mickey glanced over at Ian, the boy with the lofty, far away military dreams, and he was suddenly angry. Angry that this boy was willing to go to war, to put himself in danger, for this nonsense.

“I still don’t understand why you want to go fight in a war that we can’t win, and don’t even understand. You’re willing to get yourself killed, and for what? You’re a goddamn fool, Ian.”

Mickey threw the cigarette on the ground and stalked away, leaving Ian sitting on the bench in the dugout alone. Mickey was angry. The anger was a byproduct of his fear, the fear that Ian would sign up for Vietnam, leave, and not come back. Mickey couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell him that though. But when Ian let him go, didn’t chase him down or yell some snide remark back, he suspected that maybe Ian understood.

 

**AUGUST**

 

_ Ian – Creedence Clearwater Revival – Bad Moon Rising _

 

After their time in the dugout, Ian and Mickey didn’t speak about the Army again.

Ian hadn’t been hurt when Mickey called him a fool, because he saw the look in Mickey’s eye when he said it. He knew that was the closest Mickey could come to admitting that he cared. It didn’t deter Ian from wanting to realize his dream, but he started to understand that day that he didn’t need to flaunt his interest in the faces of Mickey and his siblings, and that the reason they tried to deter him was fear.

Ian had backed off and given Mickey space after that, waiting for Mickey to come to him. After two long and lonely weeks, Ian had come out of work after his shift to find Mickey waiting for him. They didn’t discuss Mickey’s words and he didn’t offer an apology, but Ian didn’t need one. Things picked up where they left off after that. The rest of the spring and summer marched along peacefully.

A week before Mickey’s birthday, the two of them were avoiding the heat outside and hanging out at the Milkovich house. Mickey had gotten a new batch of grass in and rolled up some joints for them to smoke together. As a gesture of goodwill, he had even given Ian a few to bring home for Lip. Ian was helping him portion out the grass into bags and joints to sell and complaining about a fight he had with Frank, who had shown up at the house a few weeks before and was driving everyone up the wall. Terry had also returned from his brief visit back to jail, but his presence was minimal at best.

“So Frank comes in and you can just smell that he drank his breakfast. Liam’s watching Captain Kangaroo and Frank’s raising Cain about… Hell, I’m not even sure what about. I don’t listen when he talks. But he’s going on and I just had it and finally I was like, listen Frank-“

It was then that Mickey surged forward and pressed his lips firmly onto Ian’s, effectively cutting him off. He stayed there for a few seconds before retreating and sitting back. Ian put his hand to his mouth and pressed his fingers down lightly, committing the feeling to memory. He looked at Mickey and smirked in victory.

“Thought you didn’t do that fairy stuff.”

“Shit, if it would just shut you up for a minute, I’d do just about anything. Who cares about Frank, anyway?”

Ian smiled to himself at Mickey’s deflection. He knew that Mickey actually liked listening to him, or at least tolerated it. But if he wanted to mask the truth behind an excuse, Ian would let him. For now, anyway. He grabbed the bags he had finished putting together and got up to store them in Mickey’s dresser drawer for safekeeping. He heard Mickey clear his throat behind him before speaking again.

“So uh, my dad took my brothers out of town on a run for a few days. And Mandy’s crashing at her friend’s pad. If you, you know, wanted to get away from Frank for a day or two, you could stay here.”

Ian turned around slowly. “Are we going to have a pajama party? I’m sure that’ll be a gas!”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Get the hell out of here.”

Ian gave him a toothy grin, then dropped the bravado. “Really, thanks. God knows that when Frank’s around I just want to beat feet and get away from him as soon as I can.”

Mickey shrugged and said, “No problem, I dig it. Believe me.”

Later that night, when came time for them to go to sleep, Ian didn’t know what to do. They had never spent a night together, and Ian wasn’t sure what Mickey had in mind for the sleeping arrangements, or anything else for that matter. He followed Mickey into his bedroom and stood there awkwardly, waiting for some sort of instruction. Mickey climbed in the bed and stared at Ian.

“You going to go to sleep standing up like a horse, or are you going to get in here?”

With a start, Ian moved toward the bed and slid under the covers. He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling, until Mickey spoke again.

“If you try to cuddle me or any other shit while I’m sleeping, I’ll rip your Johnson off.”

Ian smiled in the darkness. “Goodnight, Mick.”

\----------

When Ian woke up the next morning, he forgot where he was for a moment until he looked over and saw Mickey asleep next to him. He would never have dreamed before that moment that Mickey could ever look so peaceful. They weren’t exactly snuggled next to each other, but Mickey had rolled to face him during the night and his hand was lying on Ian’s arm, as if to reassure himself that he was still there. Ian gently traced Mickey’s features with light fingers, wanting to wake him up but not startle him. When Mickey finally roused, Ian was quick to action.

He pulled the sheet back with anticipation and saw that Mickey had an erection already tenting his boxer shorts. He yanked them down past Mickey’s hips to expose it.

“Well, good morning to you too, Mick.”

He laid himself between Mickey’s legs and took him in his mouth without waiting for a response. Ian bobbed his head slowly up and down, flattening his tongue against the shaft as he slid up Mickey’s cock, and then swirling it around the head when he got to the top. Ian felt Mickey’s fingers run through his hair as he got a grip. Ian felt Mickey tap him with something hard and when he looked up, Mickey was shoving the Vaseline jar at him. He took it and put some on his fingers, easing two of them into Mickey while he continued sucking Mickey off.

“Ian, shit, I’m not going to last long. Get in me!”

Ian sat up and Mickey turned himself over, clambering on to his hands and knees. Mickey grabbed a condom and left it on the bed. Ian unwrapped it, rolling it over his own cock and using more of the Vaseline to slick himself up before pushing himself into Mickey.

One thing that Ian had learned was that for as cautious as Mickey was about getting caught, he was unabashed about showing his enjoyment on the rare occasions that they had real privacy. This was no exception. Mickey was openly moaning and verbalizing what he wanted Ian to do to him. Hearing his obvious pleasure turned Ian on even more, and he was so lost in the moment that he didn’t hear the voice behind him until it was too late.

“What the fuck is this?!”

Ian felt himself being yanked backwards and then there was a blow to his temple that had him seeing stars.

 

_ Mickey – Led Zeppelin – Babe I’m Gonna Leave You _

 

Mickey heard the voice of the only person in the world that he feared, and in the split second before his eyes registered his father, he prayed it was a hallucination. But then he saw Terry grab a hold of Ian and drag him back, swinging his fist and connecting with the side of Ian’s head. He knew then that this was one nightmare he wouldn’t wake up from. Ian slumped down towards the floor from the shock of the blow, and Terry fisted his hand in Ian’s undershirt to try and swing at him again. Seeing Ian hurt enraged Mickey and he sprung up before Terry could make the connection, jumping him from behind and pulling his arm back. Terry released his grip on Ian and turned his attention to Mickey.

Terry threw Mickey off of his back and punched him in the face, knocking him back on the bed. He turned back to Ian and managed to land a punch on the redhead’s mouth, which had him spitting out blood from a split lip. Mickey jumped on him again before he could do anything else.

“Get the fuck off of him!”

Mickey punched Terry a few times, but it did nothing to slow him down. He pulled a pistol out from where he had it tucked in the waist of his peggers and slammed it into the side of Mickey’s head. Mickey could feel his vision getting fuzzy, and was desperate to make sure Ian was safe before Terry finished him.

“Ian… Run… Go.”

He saw Ian struggling to his feet and recognized that look he had become familiar with. The set jaw, jutting ever so slightly forward. It was Ian’s stubborn face, and Mickey didn’t have time for it.

“Ian, _please_. Just go!”

After that, Mickey felt another blow to his temple, and everything started to slip away.

\----------

When Mickey came to, he had trouble opening his eyes. He could feel swelling, the crust of dried blood and the stickiness of blood that was still on the fresh side. He smelled and tasted the familiar metallic quality he knew all too well. It wasn’t the first time his father had beaten him. Hell, probably not the last either. It didn’t matter. Mickey just wanted, no _needed,_ to know that Ian was safe.

Mickey managed to get his eyes open and slowly looked around. There was no sign of Ian, but Terry was there watching and waiting.

“Oh look, the _fairy_ princess is awake.”

Mickey winced against his better judgment. He didn’t want to show Terry any fear, or any weakness. Or any further weakness, he should say, because as far as Terry was concerned, being queer was definitely a weakness. To his relief it seemed that Terry was past the violent phase of his reaction, and had progressed to problem solving. He had been thinking while Mickey was knocked out, and was more than ready to share his thoughts.

“This fairy shit won’t do. It won’t do at all.” He began steadily, looking Mickey up and down. “I never had you doing as many runs as your brothers because I always thought you were smarter than them. Figured your talents were better utilized elsewhere. Little did I know it was making you soft. A pansy. A fairy, pansy boy. Well, we’re just going to have to toughen you up, aren’t we?”

Terry stood and moved towards Mickey. It took everything he had not to shrink into himself as his father approached him.

“Your 18th birthday is just around the corner. We’re going down to the enlistment office and getting you signed up. Nothing makes a man out of you like war. You’ll see.”

Mickey looked at him in horror. _This can’t be real_. He thought desperately. _It can’t be_. With Terry’s mind made up, he was remarkably calm.

“Mick, go get cleaned up. We’re going down there right now.”

\----------

After they returned from the enlistment office, Terry left to go celebrate at The Alibi. Mickey laid in bed, curled up facing the wall, but not sleeping. He felt numb. As it got dark, he heard the front door open and close and footsteps rush through the house. He didn’t care. He didn’t even react when he heard his bedroom door swing open and his sister’s voice behind him.

“Is it true? Jesus Christ, Mick! Is it?”

Mandy sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed his shoulder to roll him onto his back. He didn’t resist, but he kept his face towards the wall. That didn’t stop her from seeing his injuries though.

“Shit, Mick. Why’d he do all that?”

He couldn’t tell her the full truth. “Wanted to make a man out of me. That happens in war, according to Terry.”

“Oh Mick. Why didn’t you fight him on it?”

He just shrugged, but they both knew the answers. It wouldn’t matter, it would be a futile effort, and it would make a bad situation worse. Mandy got up and left the room, coming back with a washcloth dampened with cold water. She gently pressed it on his forehead.

“When do you ship out?”

“On my birthday. At least you won’t need to bake me a cake.”

Mandy didn’t respond to that, just dabbed the washcloth around his face until it wasn’t quite cool anymore. Eventually, she got up and left Mickey alone in the dark.

\-----------

Mickey laid low for a couple of days, until his face looked a little better. When he finally ventured out, he took a bottle of whiskey, a handgun and some ammo and made his way to the abandoned buildings a few blocks over. He hadn’t spoken to anyone except Mandy in days. He had thought about Ian, but he didn’t know how to face him. He wasn’t sure what, if anything, Mandy had told him.

Mickey had been to this building before, and had targets stowed away that he used for practice. He opened the bottle and took a few gulps before setting up one of the targets and reloading the gun. He steadied his hand and fired off a few practice shots. As the hours passed he drank more and fired less. He was getting ready to shoot off another round, content with getting drunk up there alone, when he heard an angry voice approaching him from behind.

“When were you going to tell me? Were you even _going_ to tell me?”

He ignored Ian and he tried to focus on his shot. It was becoming harder the more he drank. Ian didn’t seem to care that he was holding a weapon and came right up to his side. Mickey could hear the hiss of his breath as Ian got a good look at his injured face.

“Jesus Mick, he did a number on you.”

Mickey stole a quick glance at Ian to check him for injuries. He had a cut on his lip but otherwise looked fine, to Mickey’s relief. He looked back at the target and fired off an errant shot.

“You don’t have to go, Mick. We can figure something out.”

That finally got a reaction out of him. “What makes you think I have a choice?”

“I can talk to Fiona. You can stay with me. We can work this out. I don’t want you to go.”

Mickey snorted a laugh, but he wasn’t really amused. “I’d have thought you of all people would be keen on the idea. General Patton here trying to talk me out of going to war! That’s rich.”

He turned to leave and Ian trailed after him, trying first to reason with him, and then to argue with him. Mickey made no effort to engage with him but Ian was relentless, finally losing patience and getting to his point.

“Mick, listen to me! You can’t do this. We have nothing to be ashamed of!”

Mickey spun on Ian and got in his face. “What world do you live in? Don’t you understand how dangerous it would be if people found out?" He waved his arm between them. "What do you think this is anyway? It's _nothing_ , Gallagher, and I’m not making myself a target, not for you, not for anyone.”

He stormed off, leaving Ian to watch him go, not allowing himself to look back and register the hurt look on Ian's face.

\----------

On the morning of his birthday, Mickey woke up earlier than he needed. He had barely slept the night before; dreading leaving Chicago, angry at himself that he was powerless against his father. He checked his bag to make sure he had everything he needed and went into the kitchen for some coffee.

Terry was already awake and in a good mood. He offered Mickey a mug and poured some coffee for him. “I’m proud of you, son. You’re leaving here a boy but you’ll come home a man. You’ll see.”

Mickey nodded and took a sip of his coffee. His stomach was churning and he got up, heading towards the bathroom. When the door was shut, he dropped to his knees and retched as quietly as he could. He rested his forehead on the toilet seat and willed himself not to cry. He took a few deep breaths, flushed the toilet and rinsed his face.

When he went back into the kitchen, Terry seemed none the wiser. Mandy had emerged from her room and was watching him sullenly. Mickey couldn’t take it. He didn’t want to leave, but he couldn’t stay there. He went into his room and retrieved his things. He came out and gave Mandy a quick hug. Terry grabbed him in a bear hug, his proud papa act wearing on Mickey’s already frayed nerves.

The bus was picking everyone up at the recruiting office, which was only about a 10-15 minute walk away. Mickey’s feet felt more and more like lead with every passing step. He felt like he was on his way to the executioner, and he wondered if it wouldn’t have just been better to face whatever wrath Terry would have had in store for him, had he refused to enlist. It would have to have been quicker than this game he signed up for, at any rate.

Mickey got to the office and to find he was the first one there. He sat down on the sidewalk, leaning his back against the building, and prepared to wait. He sat there for a while, staring blankly at the floor in front of him. He heard other people begin to arrive, heard their tearful goodbyes with families and friends, but he made no effort to engage anyone. Suddenly, a pair of beat up Chuck Taylors appeared in front of him, and when he looked up, Ian was there.

Mickey couldn't believe Ian showed up, not after the way he had treated him. But he also knew Ian was nothing if not stubborn as all get out. Mickey really did feel a lot of affection for Ian, and it made the idea of leaving that much worse.

Ian didn’t say anything, just sat down next to him. Their arms were pressed against each other, but Mickey didn’t even care if anyone saw how close they were to each other. They didn’t speak, just sat and watched the commotion developing around them. Soon, an officer came out with a clipboard and started calling names to board the bus. The crowd began to gravitate towards the vehicle. Mickey slowly stood up and Ian joined him. They watched as young men just like themselves made their way one by one onto the bus. Mickey made as if to move toward the bus, and Ian grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Mickey, wait. Please, this is your last chance. If you give half a shit about me… Half… Don’t do this.”

Mickey felt his emotions churning, but this was not the time or place to let it out. _Was it ever_? “Don’t,” he said, with a quiver in his voice.

Ian met his eye. “Don’t what?”

Mickey didn’t even know what. “Just-“

“Milkovich? Mickey Milkovich?”

The officer was calling him. Mickey looked around him and realized that he was the only one not on the bus. Mickey grabbed his bag and looked at Ian one last time, whispering the only goodbye he could give to the brokenhearted boy he was leaving behind.

“I’m sorry.”

Mickey started to move towards the bus when he heard Ian’s voice crack behind him. “Wait!” He turned around and felt metal pressed into his hand, Ian’s fingers curling around his own to close over the item. “Don’t hesitate to use it if you need to.”

Mickey stuck his hand in his pocket without looking and jogged over to the officer to check in. He got on the bus, taking a seat near the back where he could still see Ian watching him. He looked around the bus to make sure no one could see him and he pressed one hand to the glass. A minute later, the bus pulled away. He watched Ian until he couldn’t see him anymore.

As the miles wore on, Mickey remembered the item in his pocket and reached in to pull it out. His hand closed around the metal and he withdrew his hand. When he opened it, he saw it was Ian’s butterfly knife. He rubbed his thumb along the metal for a moment before tucking it back in his pocket for safekeeping.

 

_ Ian– Harry Nilsson– Everybody’s Talkin’ _

 

Ian didn’t even make it home before he fell apart. He watched the bus pull away and saw Mickey’s hand pressed flat against the window, raising his own in kind. He began the walk home but only made it a few blocks before he ducked into an alley, panting in short spurts. He felt hot tears on his cheeks and he swiped at them, but they returned as fast as he got rid of them. When he finally got himself together, he stepped out of the alley and continued on his way home.

He entered through the front door and saw everyone in the kitchen. He ran up the stairs quickly, ignoring Fiona’s attempt to greet him. He fell into his bed and turned to the wall. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs and enter the room, but he didn’t turn around. A drawer opened and shut, and then there was weight on the bed as the person sat down next to him. He heard the click of a lighter and smelled grass from a joint.

Lip finally exhaled the fragrant smoke and spoke. “You alright, man? What happened?”

Ian ignored him at first, but after a moment rolled over and grabbed the joint from Lip’s hand, taking a long toke and holding the smoke in for as long as he could. “Mickey Milkovich left for Vietnam this morning.”

“Shit… but I mean, he’s probably better off there, knowing his father and all.”

Ian shoved Lip off the bed. “It’s not funny!”

Lip pulled himself up to standing and gave Ian a strange look. “Be cool, man. What do you care anyway?”

“You won’t get it.”

Lip sat back down on the bed. “Try me. I’m your brother. When have I ever let you down?”

Ian considered this for a moment before he felt himself releasing all of the information that he had been hiding for so long in a rush. “I’m… I don’t like girls, Lip. Me and Mickey are… Were… Well, I don’t even know what. Something. But now he’s gone.”

The brothers sat in silence for a long time while Lip processed Ian’s words. When he finally spoke, it was in true Lip fashion; he tried to be supportive but ended up being offensive.

“Ian, I mean, are you sure that’s even what you’re into? You’re young.”

He felt his eyes roll at his brother’s attempt. “Lip, have _you_ ever questioned your attraction to women?” He waited to see Lip’s reaction and said, “I didn’t think so.”

He could see Lip gearing up to try to continue the conversation, but he wanted no part of it anymore. “Lip, please. Can I just be alone for a while?”

Ian rolled over to face the wall again, and eventually Lip went back downstairs.

In the middle of the night, Ian shot up from bed. He couldn’t sleep, and he couldn’t just lay there. Everything made him think about Mickey, and Ian decided he needed distance. He pulled his ROTC duffel bag out from under his bed and quietly started opening and closing drawers, shoving in fists full of socks and underwear and grabbing whatever clothes his hands reached first.

He threw on his clothes from earlier in the day and tiptoed downstairs. He left a note for his siblings and then he was out in the night.

 

_I’m sorry, but I had to go. I just need to get away for a while._

_I love you guys. I’ll call or write soon. Promise._

_Ian_

 

It took some time, but finally Ian made it to the highway and stood on the shoulder, sticking out his thumb at passing cars. Eventually, a van slowed down and pulled onto the shoulder a few feet in front of him. He jogged over and the man in the passenger seat was rolling down the window while the man driving watched the exchange.

“Hey kid, where are you headed?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“We’re on our way to Woodstock. Upstate New York. They’re having a free music festival this weekend.”

“I’ll go wherever you’re willing to take me.”

“Far out, man. Hop in.”

Someone in the back opened the door and he saw there were four more people inside. The group looked to be evenly split between men and women. They were clearly hippies, which he didn’t see much of in his neighborhood, but it made no difference to him. A young woman with very long blonde hair reached out to help him put his duffel bag in the van and he climbed in behind it, shutting the door. The van pulled back on the road and Ian put Chicago behind him.

\-----------

Ian had stayed up for a while talking to his new travel mates. They were from Colorado, mostly college students except for Ed, the driver. They had been spending the summer traveling around the country going to anti-war rallies. They regaled him with stories from the past few months on the road. When they started talking about veterans they had met who were also protesting the war, Ian’s demeanor changed and everyone noticed but left it alone. Slowly, they all began to drift into sleep until just him and Claire, the sweet blonde with the bell bottomed jeans, were left awake.

She reached over and patted his hand. “Ian, are you alright?”

He looked down at his lap, embarrassed. “I thought I wanted to fight in this war, for my country,” he whispered. “None of it makes sense anymore. And my… my… someone important to me just enlisted against his will. I’m scared for him.”

Claire squeezed his hand and smiled at him. “What’s his name?”

“Mickey.”

“Do you love Mickey?”

The question swirled through Ian’s mind. Did he even know what love was? Could he say he felt that way? He knew he cared about Mickey, very much in fact. But he didn’t know how to explain what he felt. Instead, he just said the first thing that came to mind.

“I like how he smells.”

Claire slid closer to him and looped her arm through his, laying her head on his shoulder. She looked at him conspiratorially. “You know, they say that smell is the strongest sense related to memory. Maybe that’s what love is.”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. She closed her eyes and fell asleep against his shoulder. He leaned back and closed his own eyes. All he saw was Mickey’s face from that morning as the bus pulled away.

\----------

When he finally woke up, they were at a standstill in traffic on a back road. Ed was cursing but everyone else seemed calm. Claire was still next to him, but now she was eating a banana. She offered him half and he took it, biting into it hungrily.

Ian tried to get a better look out the window but his vantage point wasn’t very good. “Where are we?”

“A few miles from the location. The roads are blocked. We may need to abandon the van and walk over but Ed isn’t too happy with that idea.”

Sitting in the van for hours had Ian feeling claustrophobic, and he knew he needed to get out of there. “I think I’m going to go ahead. Ed, I really appreciate you bringing me all the way here. Can I offer you some money for gas?”

Ed waved him off. “That’s a no go, my friend. Are you sure you don’t want to wait for us?”

Ian smiled but shook his head. “Thanks, but I think this is where I go on my way.”

Ed reached back and offered his hand, which Ian accepted in a firm shake. “Good luck, Ian. If you don’t decide what to do after all this, keep an eye out for us. You’re welcome to join us and come back to Colorado.”

Ian nodded and opened the door of the van to leave. He felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Claire looking at him seriously. “When I do my daily yoga and meditation, I will send positive vibes into the universe for Mickey. He will return to you. You just have to believe and put out good energy.”

He thanked her with a smile and climbed out of the van, weaving between the stopped cars as he made his way down the road. It seemed a lot of other people had the same idea, and had pulled their vehicles off to the side and leaving them behind. Ian merged into the exodus and followed the crowd, since he certainly had no idea where he was going.

\----------

Ian opened his eyes and found himself curled up on the ground around his duffel bag. The crowd was still large but had thinned noticeably. He looked over at a young man near him who was rolling a joint.

“Hey man, what time is it?”

The guy looked up through bleary eyes and said, “Almost 9am. Jimi’s coming out any minute.”

Ian rubbed his eyes. There could be no way that he lost two whole days. “It’s Sunday already?”

“Dude, its _Monday_.”

He extended his hand and offered Ian the joint, which was now lit. Ian shook his head and turned his back on the man. He needed to figure out what the hell had happened in the past few days. He took a deep breath and concentrated, slowly starting to remember the weekend in segments. Leaving the group from Colorado. Dancing on the grass with a woman in the middle of the night to Joan Baez. Getting really high during Creedence Clearwater Revival and Janis Joplin. Getting a blow job during Jefferson Airplane.

The last thing he remembered was someone offering him a pill of some sort... and now, here he was. He checked his pockets and was thankful to find all of his money still there. He was about to get up and leave when a cheer ran through the crowd. He stood up and saw that Jimi Hendrix had appeared onstage. Ian figured he might as well stay.

He sat back down and listened for a while, until he heard a familiar tune coming from the guitar. It was the Star Spangled Banner, unlike Ian had ever heard it. Goosebumps raised across his arms as he listened to the melody coming through the speakers. He thought of the irony, of the country at war, of Mickey out there somewhere, of himself at a peace festival. His mouth tasted sour and he had never felt less patriotic.

Ian got to his feet and grabbed his duffel bag. He couldn’t believe he still had it. He made his way back to the main road and started walking. He didn’t know where to go but he had hope that he would find his way. He walked about a mile or two when he heard a motor behind him. It passed him slowly but pulled over. The window rolled down and a woman’s head poked out.

“I thought you looked familiar, stranger! Hop in!”

It was Claire, but she was with another young woman now. There was no sign of the rest of the Colorado group. Ian hesitated before opening the back door and sliding in.

“Ian, this is Carly. We’re headed to New York City. Does that work for you?”

He nodded and laid his head back on the seat, watching the farms and grass roll past as they made their way back to the highway and headed south.

 

**NOVEMBER - DECEMBER**

 

_ Mickey – The Beatles – Something _

 

Mickey was very happy to put Basic Training in his past. It had been a grueling two months of preparation and training in Louisiana. He was tired in a way that he had never known possible, and painfully lonely. Mickey had thought all these years that he was a lone wolf, but being truly on his own for the first time had made him realize that wasn’t true. He missed his sister, but mostly he missed Ian. It was easy enough not to think about. The long days left him so exhausted that sleep came easily, but he couldn’t avoid Ian in his dreams.

Many times, Mickey wished for the opportunity to speak to him, see how he was doing. But he didn’t have Ian’s telephone number. Hell, the Gallaghers were so piss poor that Mickey didn’t even know if they had a phone. He had started writing to Mandy when he first left but it took him all the way until he was in his next phase of training that he was able to ask her the one question whose answer he gave a shit about.

\----------

_Mandy,_

_I made it out of Fort Polk somehow and I’m at Fort Sam now. Texas. It’s fall and still gets hot during the day. Been about two weeks at this new base, and I’ve got roughly two more months. Then I’ll get deployed. I can’t even believe I made it out of Basic. I’m doing Combat Medic training here. Figure it’s more helpful than just shooting shit. Plus it gives me extra time before I’m sent overseas. Maybe it’ll end by then. You never know, right?_

_How are things there? Dad giving you a hard time? I hope Iggy is keeping things running while I’m gone. You still hanging around with Gallagher? Tell him this Army shit isn’t all it’s cracked up to be._

_My return address is on the envelope. Write to me, they don’t give us much to do here besides our training. At least letters kill some time._

                                                                           _Mick_

\----------

_Dear Mickey,_

_I got your letter! I’m glad you found a way to stay here a little longer. What kind of stuff do they have you doing? Who knew a Milkovich could use their hands for healing and not hurting? I’m proud of you. Dad’s back in jail. No surprise there. Maybe one day they’ll get sick of having to process him new each time and just keep him. We all know he can’t stay out anyway._

_I would give Ian your message but he actually split town right about when you did. It crossed my mind that maybe he found a way to enlist somehow. I hope you’re not hiding him out there in Texas! Who knows what he’s doing. But if I do hear from him I’ll pass your words along._

                                                                                   _Mandy_

\----------

When Mickey received the letter saying Ian was gone, he thought his heart was about to jump out of his throat. He wondered if Ian could have been foolish enough to try to enlist when he was still underage. Mickey knew that he had to keep his focus to get through his Medic training, but his mind was consumed with thoughts of Ian’s well-being. If he had Ian on his mind before, now there was room for nothing else. He wanted so desperately to be able to tell Mandy to find him, but he couldn’t risk it.

\----------

_Mandy,_

_So Dad’s in the can again? Good, don’t even tell him what I’m up to if you hear from him. At least you and Iggy probably have some peace in the house for now. Do you guys need money? I can send you some of my pay to help._

_They have us learning a bunch of stuff. We learned how to give shots, draw blood, start IVs, splint broken bones, treat gunshot wounds, amputations, and transport wounded soldiers. All types of things. Even basic hygiene, which sounds stupid but actually makes sense. They have us practicing on each other, which is a trip._

_Weird that Gallagher took off but he’s definitely not here. Hopefully he smartens up and stays away from all of this. He’s a tough S.O.B. though, he’s probably fine. Wherever he is._

                                                                                   _Mick_

\----------

_Hi Mick,_

_At least the stuff you’re learning is interesting. You could probably even get a job in the medical field when you come home if you wanted, maybe just take some extra courses. You’re probably shaking your head, but it’s something worth thinking about._

_I heard from Ian! It seems like he’s over his Army dream, so I guess he won’t need to heed your words. He said that he’s been staying in New York. In some place called Greenwich Village. He said there’s lots of people like you and him there, whatever that means._

_I’m going to write him back. Do you want me to give him your address?_

                                                                                   _Mandy_

\----------

Mickey was relieved to find out that Ian was safe. The prospect of being able to communicate with him directly was too good to pass up, and he answered Mandy’s letter faster than any of the others she had sent him before.

\----------

_Hey Mandy,_

_Gallagher’s a beatnik now, huh? Sure, give him my address. Letters really do pass the time well._

_And you never answered my question about the money._

                                                                                   _Mick_

\----------

For three long weeks, Mickey didn’t hear anything except from his sister. Then, right after Christmas, he received a brief note, and though it wasn’t signed and there was no return address, he knew who it was from.

\----------

_I watched the draft lottery and your birthday came out as #21. I guess you enlisting made no difference, you were leaving either way. Leaving me. Remember when you were in juvie and I told you not to extend your stay, to just get home? That still stands. Don’t be a hero and don’t be a victim to this war. Keep your head down and just come back._

_Please, Mick. Get back home._

\----------

Mickey barely slept that night. He tossed and turned, thinking about Ian’s words, wondering if staying for however much extra time could have made a difference. He still couldn’t fathom a way that staying in Chicago would have worked, but that didn’t change the fact that he felt immense guilt for leaving. All he wanted was a chance to get home and make it right.

 

**1970**

 

**MAY**

 

_ Mickey – The Beatles – The Long and Winding Road _

 

Of all the things that Mickey would have imagined about going to war, he wouldn’t have guessed how boring it could actually be. There was much for them to concern themselves with, but when days would go by with no action, it was almost easy to forget what they were doing there. His troop regularly went on search and destroy missions, combing the countryside for any signs of the enemy, but with the exception of a couple of booby traps, they usually didn’t discover much.

When they had down time, it was much like Mickey would expect out of just hanging out with the boys. Lots of card games, sharing cigarettes and stories of each other’s escapades, leering together over girly magazines sent from home. Mickey wasn’t much of one for the camaraderie. He had a trust and respect for his brothers in arms, but like elsewhere in his life, he didn’t want to let anyone in.

The only real friend that Mickey had made was Charlie Sullivan, or Sully as everyone called him. He was a fellow Southside recruit. They had been on the bus together, made it through Basic together and as luck would have it, when Mickey had completed his Medic training, him and Sully wound up reunited in the same troop.

They had lost a couple of their men since Mickey had arrived, and he struggled with it at first, but it was a relief that they seemed to be pretty lucky, even when they would relocate or be away from their base camp for extended periods of time. They hadn’t encountered any heavy battle areas. Every month or so they even got a day or two of reprieve, taken out of the fields and brought together to drink and relax before being sent back in. Mickey supposed it was to improve morale and he did see how it helped. He certainly felt better after a couple of days of beer and entertainment.

Mickey knew the other guys wondered about him, about how withdrawn from everyone he was. They had tried to bring him into the fold, even at his resistance. One guy, Patterson, had tried to give Mickey some girly magazines after he was done looking at them, but Mickey had balked at it. They had started to call him Saint Milkovich, assuming that he was either very religious or had an old lady at home that he was very devoted to.

While Mickey did have someone at home who preoccupied his thoughts, he certainly wouldn’t talk to them about that. He tried not to even think about Ian. Other than the few lines he received when he was still in Basic, he hadn’t heard anything from Ian. He had been regularly exchanging letters with Mandy, though, and had even sent a few back and forth with Iggy. Mickey had been surprised to find out that postal delivery between home and Vietnam was surprisingly reliable. It took roughly a week from when they sent him mail to when he received it, as long as conditions were good.

After he had completed Basic and was able to receive packages, they had even taken to sending him cigarettes and candy. He was pretty sure that they couldn’t afford it, and he had tried to discourage them once or twice in his letters, but his efforts were ignored. If he was honest, he would have admitted that it really touched him that they would do that for him.

The troop was all at base camp and Mickey and Sully were playing a card game together, as they had gotten in the habit of doing. Mickey was staring at the cards in his hand, strategizing his next move, when Sully leaned forward and whispered to him.

“Y’know Milkovich, the guys are wondering about you.”

“Oh yea? Wondering what?”

He looked sheepish for even saying anything. “Well, everything to be honest. You’re not exactly an open book.”

Mickey gave Sully a wary look and said, “Well to be honest, my life isn’t their fuckin’ business.”

That shut Sully up momentarily. Mickey made his move in the game and drew another card from the deck, swapping it into place and waiting. Sully concentrated over his own hand for a moment before following suit. Mickey was about to go again when Sully continued the conversation.

“They’re taking bets. The pot is getting pretty big. They’re keeping a running tab of everything.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“They want me to get the info out of you to settle things once and for all.”

“Jesus, what are they, a bunch of girls? Nothing better to do than sit around and gossip?”

Sully smirked at him and said, “Well, the deal is that winner will cut me in just for gaming the info from you, and I figure I can split it with you. Whaddya say?”

Mickey couldn’t help but feel amusement at the suggestion. If nothing else, he did like to get one over on people. He could make a little cash or supplies and not have to do much of anything to actually earn it.

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

Sully reached into the breast pocket of his uniform shirt and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“Sully, you’ve got a fuckin’ list? How nosy are you people?”

“Shut up, Milkovich. Eye on the prize. We got some money and gifts to scam. First, are you planning to join the seminary when you get back to the states?”

Mickey looked at Sully incredulously. It was clear that he thought the question was ridiculous. But it really was. He wasn’t religious, but he was pretty confident that someone who did what he liked to do in his spare time was not welcomed in the church.

“Sully, are you kidding me? That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. Why would they think that?”

Sully ticked off reasons on his fingers as he recited them. “You never take the girly magazines. You never say anything about girls or a special lady. You didn’t even come with us when we went to that whore house.”

“It’s just… not my thing, man.” He could feel himself pacing his breathing, not wanting to react. He didn’t want Sully to figure out the real reason he didn’t participate in these things.

“Do you have someone special back home? Is that why you’re not interested in all of that?”

Mickey thought of his fingers woven through rust colored hair. “You could say that.”

 

**JUNE**

 

_ Ian – The Carpenters – We’ve Only Just Begun _

 

Ian couldn’t believe that he had been living in New York City for nearly a year.

What a year it had been. When they had first arrived, he, Claire and Carly quickly realized that they didn’t really know what they were getting into. They had little money and no place to live. They considered themselves lucky when they managed to all get jobs and an apartment within the first week.

They were renting a railroad apartment in Greenwich Village; the building was shabby but that did nothing to stop their pride at being able to call it theirs. Ian had gotten a job as a barback at a neighborhood place that he quickly discovered was a gay bar. He hadn’t even heard of people like him being called gay until he moved to Manhattan. He thought it had a nicer ring than queer did.

Ian made his first local friend at work, Roger, who was the bouncer at the bar. He was big and buff and the last person Ian would have suspected to be gay, but if it was possible for there to be levels of gay, Ian imagined that Roger had him beat. He had initially come across as gruff, but once he realized that Ian wasn’t a flake, he warmed up quick enough.

Roger had filled Ian in on the finer details of what was happening in the neighborhood. They unwittingly stepped right into the midst of a burgeoning Gay Rights movement that they hadn’t even known about. He told him all about the riots at the Stonewall Inn the summer before, how the locals had defended themselves, how they were now mobilizing. He had invited Ian to a meeting of the Gay Liberation Front, of which he was a member. Ian had gone, looking to connect with more people like him. Until he left Chicago, he had known exactly two other people like him, and none of the three of them were exactly open. Having meetings with other gay people, socializing with other gay people... it was a whole new world and Ian eagerly soaked it up.

Ian and Claire’s friendship quickly grew into a solid bond, though he did often miss his first best friend. He thought about Mandy a lot, wrote her occasionally. He knew that he should write her more often, but he became caught up in his new life and his letters were sporadic. Mandy, to her credit, never complained or criticized. Her responses were always happy and excited to hear from him.

It had been a whirlwind in the ten months that he had been in New York, and it was only getting more intense. The one year anniversary of the events at Stonewall was coming up and the neighborhood was buzzing in anticipation. There was a march planned up Sixth Avenue and Roger had told Ian that he absolutely had to participate. Ian was genuinely looking forward to it, an exclamation point on this past year of opening up about his sexuality.

\----------

Ian rolled over and looked at the clock on his bedside table. He jumped up with a start, realizing that he was late. He wondered why Claire or Carly hadn’t woken him up, but it occurred to him that maybe they hadn’t come home the night before. They had both met men and started dating, and as a result, they didn’t always sleep at home anymore. He quickly pulled on some bellbottoms he had gotten at Goodwill and an old t-shirt.

He rushed through brushing his teeth and pulling his hair out of his face. He hadn’t cut it in some time, probably an unconscious protest against his former military issue crew cut. Ian’s natural curl had started to show itself and his hair was getting quite long, or just big, depending on the day. He found a rubber band and yanked it back, restraining it as best he could. He threw on his shoes and was out the door in a flash.

Ian made his way to the diner a few blocks from his apartment and when he pushed the door open, he saw that Roger, Claire and Carly were already seated at a booth. He strode over to the table and slid into the free spot next to Roger.

“Sorry I’m late, I overslept.”

They waved off his apologies and signaled the waitress to bring him some coffee. She came over and topped them off, taking their breakfast orders at the same time and disappearing towards the kitchen. They made small talk until their food arrived and they dug in, temporarily distracted and quiet. Eventually they had made a dent in their food and were ready to get to business.

Claire pulled a bag out from under the table and took out some poster board and markers to make posters for the following Sunday.  They were all planning to march for Christopher Street Gay Liberation Day and wanted to make sure that they were prepared. They joked and laughed while they worked on them, pushing their plates aside to try to make room. The mood was a good one.

They went at it for a while until Claire and Carly realized that they were late for some other plans they had made. They rushed off in a flurry of air kisses and waves, and Ian moved to the other side of the booth so he and Roger could have more room. They talked and laughed easily while they made posters.

It was pleasant, but as Ian colored in the letters on a sign he made that said _Gay and Proud_ , his mind drifted to Mickey. He wondered what his reaction would be to Ian’s new life, new hobbies. He could imagine the exasperation that Mickey would show, his flair for the dramatic which never ceased to amuse Ian. He smirked to himself at the idea.

Ian had managed to keep himself busy enough that missing Mickey wasn’t an active process in his life, but sometimes the old feelings would rear their ugly head and bite him. Hard. He thought of Mickey on that bus, leaving him behind. How it was literally easier for Mickey to face going to war than to face his father. Ian wondered at that. How bad could Terry Milkovich truly be that he was the greater of two evils in that situation? Ian realized that Mickey would probably never come to terms with himself or be able to live an honest life. It made him sad for Mickey. For himself.

The sudden wave of emotion rolled over Ian in a rush and he had to leave. Right then. He couldn’t stay there making posters, he had to get out of that diner. He fumbled his wallet out of his pocket and counted out some bills. He stood up abruptly and dropped them on the table in front of Roger.

“I have to go. I’m sorry, I forgot, I have something I’ve got to do. Can I pick up the posters later?”

“Wait, Ian! Are you alright?” Roger asked, surprised at his sudden movement.

“Sure, yea. I just need to go. I’ll catch up with you later.” He mumbled in response, already turning to leave.

Roger nodded and Ian booked it out of the diner as quickly as he could. He rushed back to his apartment before he could lose it out on the street. When he made it inside, his breath escaped him, and he gasped for air to fill his lungs. He stripped his clothes quickly and went into the bathroom, turning the shower on as hot as it would go, which wasn’t much in this building. He stepped in and stuck his head under the stream of water.

Since Ian ran away, he hadn’t truly allowed himself to mourn the loss of Mickey, and all the possibilities of what they could have been. It was all coming back to haunt him now. He felt the tears in his eyes and he let them come. His nose ran and he swiped at his face, holding his shaking hands under the shower to rinse them. He was quiet but his body shook with the force of the emotions coursing through him. He stayed in the shower a long time, until he finally got a hold of himself. When the trembling ceased, he turned off the water and grabbed a towel, drying himself and moving into his bedroom. He climbed into bed and stayed there the rest of the day.

When Claire came home, she tried to cajole him to come out and eat dinner with her. When that didn’t work, she cooked and brought him food in his bed, climbing in with him and working on her own plate. Eventually, he sat up from his stupor and took the plate she made him, pushing the food around listlessly for a few minutes until he finally began eating some of it.

Claire looked at him knowingly. “Is this about Mickey?”

Ian couldn’t offer her more than a half-hearted shrug, but it told her enough. She smoothed his hair back and kissed his temple, just like Fiona used to do when he wasn’t feeling well. He suddenly felt very homesick.

\-----------

Ian let himself mope for a day, but finally the excitement of the march wooed him back into the swing of things. When that Sunday finally rolled around, he was up extra early in anticipation. He and the girls were out of the apartment in record time and met up with Roger and Brian, another friend from Ian’s job. They all had their posters and made their way together to the starting point. There were a couple of hundred people there and the march started.

As they walked, they slowly started gathering more people, and soon it had swelled to at least a few thousand bodies. Ian was overwhelmed and jubilant at seeing all these people, people like him. Roger gripped his hand and they smiled at each other, happy tears threatening to spill but staying in place.

Ian wished Mickey could see this. See that they weren’t alone, that there were other people just like them. He wished that Mickey could be proud to be just who he was. But even if Mickey couldn’t, Ian could, and he _would_. For Mickey and all the others like him. He held his poster up high, waving it and marching proudly, with a bounce in his step that he may have never had until that day. Ian wasn’t going to live his life by other people’s rules and restrictions any longer. He would not apologize for how he felt. He looked to his left at Roger and Brian, to his right at Claire and Carly, and all of their smiles, and he never felt freer.

 

**SEPTEMBER**

 

_ Mickey – Black Sabbath – War Pigs _

 

Mickey regretted ever thinking that war was boring.

His unit had gotten too comfortable, and their complacency was coming back to haunt them. Their base camp had been hit in an overnight raid and they had been forced out into the wilderness. They had lost most of their platoon, leaving them with less than 20 people, and had scrambled to take what provisions they could before fleeing from the onslaught.

Mickey hadn't even had enough time to fully restock his medic bag before he ran, just quickly grabbing whatever was in reach and shoving it in his pack before they were ordered to go, go, go. They had tried to make contact for reinforcements, but there was no response. Either their messages weren’t heard or there was no backup to be had. They had been moving cautiously through the countryside, trying to keep together what was left of the group.

They were hiding out under some foliage, taking turns between sleeping and keeping watch for the enemy. Mickey and Sully were on guard, the night unsettlingly quiet. They sat leaning against each other back to back. They didn’t talk much, lost in thought about the recent shitty turn of events. There wasn’t much to say. Mickey heard the flick of a match and smelled cigarette smoke. Sully took a few puffs of his cigarette and reached back to pass it to Mickey. Sully finally broke the silence, and immediately Mickey was concerned. He sounded completely despondent.

“Mick, what if we don’t make it out of here? This situation is totally FUBAR.”

“Sully, you shut your fuckin’ mouth. We’ll get out of here.”

“Mick, the whole thing is fugazi. I can’t believe we signed up for this. I’m going to die surrounded by fuckin’ gooks.”

“The only way you leave here dead is if I kill you myself, do you fuckin' hear me? Don’t give up now, man. We’re gonna make it out. Got it?”

He felt Sully tilt his head back and rest it against his own, and he allowed it. His bravado may have appeared more solid, but in reality he was just as scared as his friend. He tried to reach behind him to pat Sully’s arm for comfort, but the angle was awkward. Instead, Mickey kept talking.

“Listen Sully, in the morning we’re going to powwow with Thompson, he’s got the maps. I think he has a good idea of where we are. He’s going to find another base camp and we’ll hump it over there and regroup, join up with another platoon. We’ll be fine. We grew up in the Southside, we got this.”

Sully didn’t respond, and Mickey hoped he’d drifted off to sleep, but soon he heard Sully’s whispers behind him and felt his gentle trembling. He was pretty sure Sully was crying.

“ _Fugazi, it’s all fugazi. We’re never going home again. I’m so sorry, please, I’m sorry. I didn’t know better, none of us did. Please just let me go home. I want to go home._ ”

Mickey felt a surge of panic, his throat and chest tightening and making it hard for him to breathe. He fumbled his hand into his pocket. For a moment, he thought what he was looking for was gone and he almost went into a complete tailspin, but then he felt the hard edge and gripped it tightly, pulling his hand out and placing his closed fist over his heart. He stroked his thumb over the cool metal of Ian's butterfly knife and he felt his breathing slow back to normal. He could feel his eyes stinging, and he let the tears slip out in the darkness.

Sully had one thing right, for sure - This entire situation was fuckin' fugazi.

It turned out that Thompson had plenty of maps, but they were of no use because neither he nor anyone else knew quite where they were anymore. They were exhausted, hungry and scared, and had completely lost their bearings out in the wild. The rag tag group got into a heated debate about which way they should be heading and finally settled it with a coin toss. Mickey would think to himself later how crazy that flipping a coin forever changed his life.

\---------

Two days later, the strain of being out there unprotected was finally getting to everyone. They were at each other’s throats and had spent equal amounts of time searching for booby traps, moving towards what they hoped would be a new camp, and fighting with each other.

Mickey had broken up multiple fights, and everyone’s nerves were frayed. The smallest things were setting them off, like not having dry socks for days or running out of cigarettes. When Mickey broke up the fifth fight in one day, he thought he was going to lose it. He pinched the bridge of his nose to stop himself from flipping out and that’s when he heard it.

It was the smallest of noises, just a crackle, nothing really. But Mickey’s hackles were already on high alert and he was the edgiest he’d possibly ever been; it felt like his senses were all heightened. He held up his hand to quiet everyone down and waited. He heard another crackle, followed by a rustling noise, and he motioned everyone to disburse. They all scattered, trying to keep some semblance of a formation as they swept through the trees.

They moved as quietly as they could, but they had been spotted. They were easy targets. When the gunfire first started, they tried to return fire. But soon they realized it was a futile attempt. They were low not just on standard supplies, but ammunition as well, and would leave themselves dangerously exposed if they ran out. Angus, who was the highest ranking member of the platoon remaining, ordered them to retreat and they all made a run for it.

Suddenly, Mickey heard a thump as someone fell behind him. He turned around to see Sully face down on the floor, a bullet hole in his side. He rushed over and heard Sully wheezing. Mickey frantically pulled an old t-shirt and some other supplies out of his pack. He sterilized the wound and pressed the t-shirt over it to try to slow the bleeding, keeping one eye scanning the bushes around them. He found an ace bandage and improvised by wrapping it around to hold the t-shirt in place. Sully looked at him, his expression peaceful, except for a hint of fear in his eyes.

“Mick, you have to go. Leave me.”

“Fuck. You. Do you hear me? I’m not goin’ anywhere.” Mickey bit back breathlessly.

Sully licked his lips for moisture. “Mick, please. It’s a clusterfuck, get out while you can.”

Mickey was not playing this game, not today, not ever.

“Go fuck yourself, Sully.”

He hoisted Sully up to his feet against the man’s protests, and wrapped one arm around Sully’s waist. He took Sully’s arm and wrapped it over his shoulders, holding the hand with his own free hand. He started to pull Sully along, who tried to keep in step with Mickey, but was mostly being dragged. Mickey forced himself on, even as he felt a bullet hit his leg. The pain was searing but somehow he managed to keep moving instead of succumbing to it, channeling the pain into action.

Sully was now barely stepping at all. “Mickey, I’m slowing you down, just leave me here. It’s okay. It’s better this way.”

He snarled through his gritted teeth. “You sonofabitch. Shut your goddamn mouth, Sullivan.”

Mickey kept at it until they were at the edge of a clearing, adrenaline racing through his veins. He heard helicopters for the first time in days and a wave of relief hit him. Mickey let go of Sully to wave his arms and get their attention, and a moment later an explosion roared. Mickey just had time to see the body of one of the squad members, who he couldn’t identify, go airborne before the force knocked him back. He felt his head hit something hard, and everything turned gray and fuzzy. He fought desperately to keep conscious, but it was all too much. A moment later,  Mickey knew nothing.

\----------

When Mickey woke up, the first thing he noticed was the pain. Acute pain. He pried open his eyes and saw that he was in a hospital, recognizing the rows of beds and sterile, white sheets. Relief poured over him and he slowly moved to sit himself up. He felt a wave of pain in his head at the motion and slumped back in the bed, keeping himself as still as possible.

He felt like he waited forever until someone appeared, but rationally he knew he hadn’t been awake that long. Finally , a doctor entered the room with a chart and was busily taking notes, when he looked up and saw Mickey watching him.

“You’re awake, Specialist Milkovich. How are you feeling? How is your head?”

“Like shit. I feel like my brain got run over.”

“I’ll have a nurse bring you something for that. You’re doing well. Your vital signs have been consistent. You had a bullet wound to the left leg, and actually managed to break that same leg when you recoiled from the explosion on the ground, but nothing that won’t heal fine in due course. And a nasty concussion from hitting your head when that explosion occurred. But otherwise, you’ll be alright.”

Mickey already figured he was good enough, he was there after all. “What about the rest of the guys? Sullivan?”

The doctor smiled at him reassuringly. “Sullivan is going to be just fine as well. The bullet punctured his lung and he's sore, but on the mend. He’s down the hall, he’s been asking for you. I can send him over to visit if you’re up for it.”

Mickey nodded and exhaled in relief, releasing the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “How many survived?” He saw the doctor hesitating. “Doc, _please_. How many?”

“Seven altogether. You, Sullivan, Thompson, Angus, Miller, Esposito and Chandler.”

“No Patterson?”

The doctor shook his head. Mickey found himself pinching the bridge of his nose to fight off tears. He hadn’t even liked the guy, but the idea that he was lost to that place of horror and desperation filled him with a sadness he couldn’t articulate.

The doctor chimed in one more time. “And you get to go home, once you’ve healed up a little bit more and we clear you to travel. You’re going home. No more war for you.”

The doctor patted his good leg and left the room. Mickey felt a few tears sneak out of his eyes in relief. _It was over_. It was finally fuckin’ over. He had been in Vietnam for nearly a year, and while this last run had been a bad one, he had made it. Survived. He knew that too many weren’t so lucky, including Patterson.

Shortly after, the nurse appeared with two paper cups, one filled with water and the other with two pills rolling around the bottom. He tossed them in his mouth and chased them with a swig of the water. The coolness of it was refreshing in his throat. An urgent thought struck Mickey as the nurse turned to leave.

“Nurse? Where are my things?”

She opened up a small closet in the corner and pulled out a plastic bag with his belongings to show him. He motioned her to hand it to him and she obliged.

“Thanks.”

She left the room and Mickey opened the bag, pawing through it haphazardly until he found the butterfly knife in the bottom. He breathed a sigh of relief. He had made it over a year without losing it, and he wasn’t ready to do so now. He wished he had somewhere safe to put it, but he was wearing nothing but a hospital robe. He laid his head back on the pillow and dozed back off with the knife in his hand.

Mickey was awakened some time later when an orderly came in with food. It occurred to him that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, and his stomach growled in anticipation. He pulled himself up to a better position and started frantically shoving the food in his mouth. It tasted like shit. He didn’t care.

As he finished up, he heard a noise at his door and when he looked up, Sully was being wheeled into the room. The nurse rolled him next to Mickey’s bed and left them alone. _Fuck, it was good to see him_. Mickey watched a range of emotions playing out on Sully’s face.

“How you feeling, Mick?”

He seesawed his hand. “Glad to have some food in my belly. Head hurts like a sonofabitch, but I’m not complaining. We’re here at least.”

Sully nodded solemnly. They sat in silence for a while, but it wasn’t awkward. Considering everything they had been through, there was a bond between them that overruled anything else. Mickey heard Sully make a low choking noise and looked over at him. He registered the tears welling in Sully’s eyes.

“You saved my life, man. I tried to get you to leave me there and you didn’t. I owe you. I don’t know how I’ll ever pay you back, but I owe you Mick.”

He waved off the gratitude, uncomfortable with it. “You don’t owe me shit, Sully. I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done for me.”

Sully’s arm shot forward and he grabbed Mickey’s hand, waiting to make eye contact before he spoke again. “Mick, thank you. I can’t ever thank you enough.”

Mickey squeezed his hand tight for a moment before laying it next to his own on the bed. He felt tiredness sweeping over him again and before he could say anything in response, he was closing his eyes and succumbing to it.

The next week was a blur of medicine and long, disorienting hours of resting and not doing much, but after seven days he and Sully were cleared to return to the states. As they boarded the plane, Mickey’s body stiff from the week in the hospital bed, it occurred to him that he didn’t actually want to go home. At least not to the home he had left. He wondered what the hell he was going to do with himself when he got back to Chicago, and when he had settled into his seat he closed his eyes, trying to quiet his busy mind.

 

**1971**

 

**FEBRUARY**

 

_ Mickey – The Temptations – Just My Imagination _

 

Mickey was drunk again.

It happened all too frequently since his return from Vietnam. Most nights he would wake up in the still of the night in a panic, nightmares from his time overseas ripping him from sleep. He would compensate the next day by drinking himself into oblivion, getting so drunk that when he finally passed out he didn't dream at all. He knew it was a problem, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The only redeeming things that had happened since he returned home were both thanks to Sully.

Sully's brother in law, Tommy, owned his own construction business and had hired Sully and Mickey to work on his crew. It was the first legitimate job Mickey ever had, if he didn't count his military service. And he didn’t - he tried not to count that at all. Since they were both gainfully employed, Sully and Mickey decided to become roommates. They found a cheap apartment, still in the Southside, and called it home. It wasn’t much, but Mickey was just grateful that he didn't have to stay under Terry's roof any longer.

Coming home hadn't actually been as terrible as he had anticipated. Mickey freaked himself out beforehand, envisioning all kinds of negative scenarios which inevitably ended with either him or his dad covered in blood... but Terry seemed to have forgotten everything that had happened leading up to Mickey's service. He was just proud, _proud_!, that Mickey had served his country and had the battle scars to prove it. Terry told anyone who would listen about his son's battle experience, and it make Mickey's stomach curdle to hear him brag.

“My boy fought over in Viet- _NAM_ ,” Terry would say, rhyming the country’s name with ham. “He saved men. My boy’s a goddamn _HE-ro_!”

The more Mickey came to terms with how terrible his father was, the more he wanted to be everything Terry wasn't, and the less interest he had in pleasing him. Once he moved out, Mickey made a point to never go by the house. Mandy and Iggy would visit him at his apartment, or they would all make plans to go out together, but Mickey wouldn't go back to his childhood home.

If Terry wasn’t enough of a deterrent, Mickey also avoided being around the house because of Mandy’s new boyfriend, Kenyatta. She had met him while Mickey was still overseas, and during his absence had moved into the Milkovich house. When Mickey first met him, his fists had clenched involuntarily at his sides in an immediate dislike and distrust for the man.

Mandy spoke highly of him, but Mickey was no fool. He saw that her words and her eyes didn’t match. She talked up Kenyatta’s involvement with the Black Panthers, but Mickey saw how she cowed in his presence. When attempting to talk to her about it proved fruitless, Mickey figured it was easier to avoid the situation altogether.

Mickey and Sully settled into an easy rhythm. When they had first gotten back, Sully tried to find out more information about why Mickey's "old lady" wasn't around. He had known that Mickey wasn't one for divulging personal information, but he thought it strange that the mystery lady never came to their apartment. Sully was confused, he knew there was _someone_ in Mickey’s life, and yet she didn't seem to exist.

When Sully came home from running errands on Valentine's Day and found Mickey drunk on the couch, a bottle of whiskey propped between his legs and one hand clinging to the bottle's neck, he thought that maybe there had been a breakup he hadn't been privy to. Or that maybe it was an unrequited love, that Mickey's feelings weren't returned. Sully sighed and shook his head at the sight.

"Mick, I can't keep coming home and finding you this way. It's no good. You shouldn't be drinking all the time like this."

Mickey looked up at him, tried to steady his gaze on Sully's face, proving an impossible feat with the way he was swaying in his seat. "Sully, m'man, be cool and have a drink with me."

He drunkenly offered the bottle to Sully, who immediately pulled it out of his hand and hid it in the kitchen. He came back into the living room and grabbed Mickey by the wrist, hoisting him up to his feet.

"C'mon, let's get you into bed to sleep this one off."

Sully pulled Mickey down the hall and into his bedroom. Mickey landed on the bed face down, and Sully fought with him to get his shoes off. He moved Mickey’s dead weight around on the bed, until he was laid out properly. Sully was moving towards the door when he heard Mickey speak behind him, his words slurred.

"I like fuckin' carrot tops. Like with the pale skin and freckles... Fuckin' alien looking."

Sully turned and looked at Mickey, who was laying in the bed and staring off into the distance, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He assumed Mickey was thinking of his long-lost, apparently _redheaded_ love. Sully paused for a minute, in the quiet bedroom, studying his friend. He had experienced a number of different feelings for Mickey since their first meeting. Initially, he hadn't thought about him much at all. Then, they had grown on each other, and he had come to love Mickey as a friend, and even a brother. He found Mickey to be equal parts frustrating and entertaining. Yes, he had felt a lot of different things about Mickey… but now, he just felt sorry for him.

The next morning, Mickey had woken up cursing the whiskey he had loved a little too hard the night before. He rolled out of bed and staggered into the bathroom, fumbling through the medicine cabinet for some aspirin. He popped a few in his mouth and drank water right from the faucet to wash them down. He splashed some on his face and grabbed a towel to blot it dry. Mickey looked in the mirror and didn’t like what he saw.

His eyes were bloodshot and tired. There was a mix of hardness and sadness that he didn’t think someone his age should know. Mickey was tired. He was tired in a way that no amount of sleep could cure. He heaved a sigh and padded through the apartment into the kitchen for some coffee. Sully was already at the kitchen table with his own mug and some oatmeal.

Mickey felt Sully’s eyes on him, watching him, appraising him.  He fixed his coffee and sat at the table, ignoring his roommate’s intent stare until he finally couldn’t take it anymore.

He glared at Sully and asked, “Can I help you?”

Sully shrugged and stared into his bowl. “You look like shit, man.”

Mickey really wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. “The hell do you care?”

He could understand Sully’s concern, but he wasn’t expecting Sully’s anger. So when his roommate grabbed his bowl and slammed it back down on the table, Mickey jumped, oatmeal splattering everywhere. Sully pointed his spoon at Mickey accusingly.

“If you think for one goddamn minute you saved my life in Vietnam for me to come back here and watch you kill yourself, you got another thing coming. You’re my brother, Mick. Closest I got to one, anyway. Get your shit together. Figure it out.”

Sully threw the spoon towards the kitchen sink and stalked out of the room. Mickey heard him storm out the front door and slam it behind him. His anger got the best of him and he took Sully's bowl and flung it against the wall. It shattered, sending shards and oatmeal everywhere. And it didn't make him feel a damn bit better.

He sighed to himself and dragged his hands over his face as he surveyed the wreckage of Sully’s breakfast. Mickey slowly got up and grabbed an old rag to wipe up the mess. Once he was done, he changed into his work clothes and pulled on his boots so he could follow Sully to the job site.

Throughout the day, Mickey and Sully didn’t speak. The guilt was gnawing in Mickey’s gut, but being given the silent treatment actually did him a favor. For once, he really allowed himself to think about what Sully said to him, to think about his life and his future. Mickey thought about the circumstances that had led him to where he was now, and how his father had ruled his life. Terry didn’t have that power anymore.

Mickey had come home, found his feet for the first damn time, and was finally out from under Terry’s thumb. It had been a long time coming, but he was starting to understand that he had a choice in his future, and what that would entail. That his actions, or lack thereof, would determine what that actually meant. Most of all, Mickey finally understood that Terry didn’t have to have an impact on any of it, if Mickey didn’t let him. It was empowering, and it wasn’t difficult for Mickey to decide once and for all that he would no longer live his life according to Terry’s fucked-up standards.

 

**MARCH**

 

_ Ian – The Isley Brothers – Love The One You’re With _

 

Activism was a good look for Ian.

For so long, he had been of the mindset that you had to fight for what you wanted, what you needed, what you deserved. And while he still felt that was true, Ian decided his approach had been all wrong. Now that he had some perspective, he realized that fighting didn’t have to mean signing up for the Army and going to war. Especially for a country that wouldn’t fight for or protect him and his friends.

What had started out as one gay rights march turned into volunteering, meetings and events. Soon his latent anger at the war spurned him to get involved with the anti-war initiative as well. Ian still wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do with his life, but all his volunteering made him know he didn't want to work in a bar forever. Lately he had been considering other options. It was nice.

Life in New York was great, although it was getting a little complicated. After a raucous New Year’s Eve out on the town, Ian and Roger had wound up in bed together, and the situation was ongoing. Ian tried to be explicitly clear that he did not want anything more than the arrangement they already had, and it had seemed like Roger was fine with it at first. But when Valentine’s Day came and went without acknowledgement, there was a shift.

Roger became more pursuant; busying up a lot of Ian’s free time, making plans for them with friends who were couples. Ian almost felt like he had accidentally found himself in a relationship that he didn’t know how to end. How does one break up with someone they’re not really dating? He thought about how to end their arrangement and strictly go back to the way it had been, but Ian did like the sex and he didn’t want to ruin their friendship. Plus, they had a lot of plans coming up and Ian didn’t want to make things weird between now and then.

They worked together, they volunteered together, they ran with the same crowd... Other than Claire, Roger was the best friend Ian had in New York. Ruining that would ruin a lot of things, and Ian was hesitant to set it all up in flames. Their group of friends and some other people they knew from the neighborhood were all planning to go to Washington DC the following month for a huge anti-war rally. The crowd was expected to be record breaking.

Ian woke up in bed and stretched carefully, trying not to wake Roger who was curled around him, his hand flat on Ian’s stomach. He stared thoughtfully at the contrast of Roger’s brown skin on his own pale, freckled torso. He felt bad. Ian really didn’t want to lead his friend on, and he knew that he didn’t want more from Roger than he was already getting. He cared for Roger, but Ian didn’t want to be in a relationship. Not with him, anyway.

He pushed that thought from his mind quickly, before it could continue its progression to who he would want to be with. Ian gently extracted himself from Roger’s arms and slowly slid out of the bed. He found his underwear on the floor and dragged them up into place before shuffling out into the apartment. He poured himself some coffee and went into the living room, dropping down on the couch. Carly’s bedroom door was still closed, but Claire was up and doing her daily yoga.

“Good morning. Roger stay over again last night?”

“Mm hmm.”

She moved from her downward dog position into a cobra pose, taking a moment to level Ian with a stare. “Ian, you can’t lead him on forever.”

He knew that she wasn’t judging him. She was only reminding him about his own words to her, when he told her what was going on. But that didn’t stop him from feeling a sting of resentment.

“It’s too early for the motherly lecture.”

Claire continued moving through her sun salutations, completing the phase with a standing stretch. She put her hands on her hips stubbornly and gave him a look.

“It’s not a lecture. But you know you can’t give him what he deserves, you told me that yourself. Your heart isn’t in it, Ian. It’s not fair to either of you.”

Ian avoided her gaze, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. “I know, I know. I’ll end it soon. I will.”

Claire looked at him for a few more seconds. “I still send those good vibes out every day when I do my yoga, Ian. Just like I told you I would that first day we met. It’s only a matter of time.” She turned around and proceeded to start doing a new sun salutation while Ian practically stared holes in her back. _Leave it to Claire to remind me about what I’m trying to forget. She didn’t even have to say his name._

Ian finished his coffee and put the mug in the sink. He sneaked back into his room to grab some clothes, figuring he could take a shower, but Roger was awake and seemed to have other things in mind.

“Hi there,” Roger greeted him as he entered the room, eyeing Ian’s barely dressed form appreciatively. “Come back to bed.”

Ian shook his head and moved towards his dresser, pulling open a drawer and grabbing the first things he chanced upon. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Roger reached forward and grabbed Ian by the hips, pulling him closer. “Mmm, I’ve got a much better idea.”

He kissed Ian’s stomach and pulled him down onto the bed. Ian started to get up and Roger playfully pulled him back again. Ian decided not to fight it, and they fooled around for a while until Roger had gotten him off. After taking a minute to gather himself, Ian got up and went to the bathroom like he had intended.

Instead of turning on the shower, Ian locked the door and drew a bath. They had no bubble bath, so he squirted some shampoo under the running water and slowly dropped down into the tub. He used his foot to crank the hot water up as high as he could stand it and let the tub fill most of the way before he shut it off.

Ian took a deep breath and submerged himself under the water. What am I doing with him? I have to stop this, it’s getting out of hand. It’s not what I want. He stayed under the water as long as he could, lungs aching, craving oxygen, until he burst out of the water with a splash. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself and grabbed a towel from the rack, throwing it on the floor to soak up the water that had sloshed over the edge of the tub. He climbed out and grabbed another towel to dry off.

His skin was flushed pink from the heat of the water. It occurred to Ian that he shouldn’t do stuff like that, but he shrugged it off. He hesitated before leaving the bathroom, not actually wanting to deal with Roger at that moment. Finally he sighed, and made his way into his room, to find Roger still lying in his bed.

Ian was annoyed and he gestured with his thumb towards the door. “I’m not feeling good, you should go.”

Roger furrowed his brow, concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong? You okay?”

Ian felt his patience being tested and tried very hard to keep a grip on his temper. He wasn’t in the mood to fight. “I’m tired and feel under the weather. I just want to go back to bed.”

Roger lifted the blanket to let Ian in, and Ian stared at him pointedly. “Alone, Roger. I want to go back to bed alone.”

Roger got up without another word and started pulling on his clothes. Ian felt guilty at the hurt look on his face, but more than that, Ian felt relieved that he was going to have some time to himself. Once Roger was fully dressed, he exited the bedroom and pulled the door closed behind him. Ian leaned back against the door, the room blissfully empty. He was about to crawl into bed as promised when he heard Roger and Claire talking in the other room. He put his ear to the door to listen.

“Claire, I just don’t get what he wants. I try, I really do.”

Ian heard Claire sigh softly. “Roger, what do you know about Ian? About how he wound up here in New York?”

“Not much. I know he met you hitchhiking out of Chicago.”

“Do you know why he left there?” Ian didn’t hear Roger answer, but when Claire continued, he assumed Roger had shook his head. “He had a boy back home. From what I understand, the boy enlisted and was sent off to Vietnam, but he was forced somehow. I don’t know the whole story, and Ian won’t tell me. I imagine he and that boy are the only ones who do. Can you imagine what something like that does to a person, having someone you love leave like that?”

Roger’s voice was shaky when he finally answered. “Jesus. I had no idea.”

Ian heard a small commotion and heavy footsteps, presumably Roger’s, moving through the apartment. He heard the front door open, the hinge squeaking as it always did, and Claire’s voice spoke up again.

“You can’t make him feel something he doesn’t, Roger. He cares about you as a friend, but he’s not ready for what you want. He might not ever be. It’s hard to move on when there’s no closure. You’re great, and you would be good for him. But he has to come to that place on his own. You shouldn’t push him anymore.”

There was a long silence before Ian heard the front door close. He climbed into bed and pulled his pillow over his head, shutting out the world.

 

**APRIL**

 

_ Mickey – Marvin Gaye – What’s Going On _

 

Mickey was being awarded for his military service. He thought the idea was ludicrous.

Why was he being rewarded for doing his job? He hadn't even understood at first how the higher ups had found anything out, but apparently while they were in the hospital, his fellow soldiers had talked up his bravery. How he heard the enemy approaching, how he tried to get them to safety. Sully had told them about Mickey dragging him out of harm's way while being injured himself, and one of the cogs in the industrial war machine had deemed him worthy of a medal for this. TWO medals. Apparently he was being awarded with both a Vietnam Service Medal and a Purple Heart.

Mickey was tempted to stand them up, not show up for the presentation ceremony. He hadn't advocated for the war before he enlisted, and nothing that happened there served to change his mind. If anything, it made him even more disillusioned about the whole thing. He didn't want to accept a medal for something he didn't believe in. But he got a free trip to Washington DC, all expenses paid, and was encouraged to bring a guest. He figured it was only fair that since Sully was part of the reason this was even happening, that he brought him along.

They were picked up on a Friday and brought to the airport. The flight was a short one and soon they were being driven through the nation's capital, looking out the windows of their taxi in awe. They had seen Washington DC on television and in newspaper photographs, of course, but being there was a surreal experience. The awards ceremony wasn't until Monday morning, and there was a newspaper interview about it on Saturday, leaving them with the rest of the weekend to sightsee and party, both of which they planned to do. They were brought to their hotel and checked in, escorted to their room, and finally left alone.

Mickey chose the bed nearest to the door, always prepared for a quick escape. He and Sully relaxed and cleaned up, hitting a local steakhouse for dinner and then a bar. Mickey got pleasantly buzzed, but refrained from too much heavy drinking, knowing that he had his interview the next day and that they would be taking pictures.

Saturday morning, Mickey was in a nasty mood. He looked at his dress uniform, hanging on the back of the hotel room door to prevent wrinkles, and scowled.

“I don’t see why I need to wear this fuckin’ thing.”

Sully threw a pillow from his bed and caught Mickey right in the head. “Shut up, you crotchety thing. It’s just for a few hours for the fancy newspaper people to get their fancy pictures, and then we can come back here and throw on our old hand me downs and get back to normal.”

Mickey grumbled to himself but reluctantly got dressed. The sooner they got this over with, the better. When they were both ready, they made their way to the lobby, and asked the person at the desk to call a taxi for them to go to the newspaper’s office.

“No can do,” the woman said apologetically. “There’s a huge anti-war rally going on at the Mall. Driving near there is going to be impossible. It’s not far though, if you’re willing to walk.” She found a brochure with a map of the area and showed them how to get to their destination by foot. They thanked her and made their way out of the hotel.

As they walked slowly through the streets, they watched the crowd billowing and converging around them. Mickey had never seen so many people in one place in his life. It was claustrophobic, and he found himself relieved to get to the newspaper headquarters, away from the hustle and bustle outside. They sat down with the reporter, and Mickey was grateful he had picked Sully as his guest for the weekend. He was much more personable than Mickey and willing to fill in the gaps in their story. After chatting for a solid hour, answering questions and recounting events, the photographer came by and took pictures for the article. Finally they were free to go.

Mickey was determined to get back to the hotel as quickly as possible. “I can’t wait to get out of this fuckin’ thing and get a drink.” He grumbled.

“Mick, you think we could stop for a few drinks first before we change?”

He felt himself huffing at the inconvenience, tugging at the collar of his uniform. “C’mon Sully, you know I hate this thing.”

“I know, man. I know. But I kind of wanted to get out there on the make, it’s been awhile, you know? Ladies love a man in uniform.” Sully looked up and Mickey appreciated that at least he had the decency to look sheepish about it.

Mickey glanced over at him and asked, "You do realize that you're barking up the wrong tree, right? We're surrounded by hippies. Flower power and all that. They're not looking for a bonafide military man."

Mickey saw that Sully was gearing up to argue with him and he backed off with a shrug. It wasn't something he cared enough about to fight over. He held up his hand and said, “Fine. But not all fuckin' day. A few drinks, and if you don’t find yourself a pretty little lady, we move on and get changed.”

Sully nodded his agreement and they continued walking, keeping an eye out for somewhere to stop. “Mick, maybe you’ll find a nice girl to, uh… Wet your whistle, too.”

Mickey just waved him off. He had no intentions of wetting his whistle, or anything else for that matter, with the present company he was keeping. They were laughing and joking, walking along the sidewalk together, when suddenly Mickey’s heart dropped and he stopped dead in his tracks.

He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. All he could do was stare. Sully halted next to his friend in confusion, then slowly  followed Mickey’s gaze and saw what he was looking at. Mickey may not have been able to find his voice, but Sully found his.

“Holy shit! It’s your _alien_. I didn’t… I never would…  my god, it all makes sense.”

Somewhere on the edge of Mickey’s consciousness he registered that Sully was speaking, but it was all white noise. He had tunnel vision, and he only saw one thing.

 _Ian_.

Mickey thought the name to himself, and it was as if Ian heard him. He was with a group of people about thirty feet away, laughing at something one of them said when Mickey silently screamed his name.  He turned his head, and at that moment Ian saw Mickey, too. He paused, just as shell-shocked as Mickey was.

Mickey drank him in. The long hair that Ian was now sporting, his natural waves taking over, restrained by a rubber band but still wild. His lean frame clad in bellbottoms and a white shirt with a vest over them, looking like the ultimate hippie.

He was beautiful.

Mickey’s feet started moving before his mind caught up. He inched closer and closer, until he was only about ten or so feet away when he stopped, unable to go any further. He and Ian continued to stare at each other, eyes locked,  until Ian finally closed the distance and approached, stopping just shy of actually making any contact.

Mickey watched as Ian’s eyes flitted over him, looking him over not with lust or want, but with care. Reassuring himself that Mickey was safe, in one piece. Mickey wanted to touch him, reach out and draw Ian into him, but he stopped himself. He balled his hands tightly at his sides and began picking at his cuticles anxiously. After Ian stopped examining Mickey, he finally spoke.

“Mick,” he whispered, his voice hoarse as he tried to hold back his emotion. “You’re really here. You’re back.”

“I’m back,” Mickey agreed quietly.

He had so much he wanted to say, but he couldn’t pull the words out. He watched as Ian schooled his expression into something more neutral. The air between them tensed and Mickey could feel hurt rising up in his chest. He hadn’t imagined what a reunion with Ian would look like, hadn’t even necessarily thought it would ever happen. But whatever was happening in this moment wasn’t anything he would have pictured.

Ian gave him a short nod, just one tick of his head. “Welcome home, soldier. Glad to see you made it back.”

Ian turned on his heel and started to head back to his friends. Mickey felt sick to his stomach; _what the fuck?_ Where was Ian going? He couldn’t let it end like that. Mickey reached out and grabbed Ian’s elbow.

“Ian, wait. Please.”

Ian paused and turned back, avoiding Mickey’s gaze. Mickey slowly let go of him, and reached into the inside breast pocket of his uniform coat. His fingers closed around what he was looking for and he pulled it out, extending his hand and offering the item over to Ian.

“If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. I thought you might want this back.”

Ian looked down and saw his butterfly knife resting on Mickey’s open palm. When he looked back and met Mickey’s eyes again, he had tears in his own.

“You kept it.”

Mickey looked at him, his gaze tender. “Course I did.”

Ian wrapped his long fingers around Mickey’s hand and closed Mickey’s fist back over the knife. “Keep it. I want you to have it.”

Mickey nodded and they lingered over the contact for a moment, before Ian let his hand drop.  Mickey returned the knife to his pocket with the smallest hint of a smile.

Ian jerked his thumb towards his friends and said, “We were going to get some drinks at this bar, Nob Hill. You want to come with us?”

Mickey paused for a moment, considering Ian’s question. He knew it was asking about more than just a drink. He met the redhead’s eyes, then slowly nodded. He glanced quickly back at Sully, a silent question in his eyes, then relaxed his shoulders when his friend nodded his agreement.

 

_ Ian – Carole King – So Far Away _

 

Ian may have been getting used to attending marches and rallies, but this was his first time in the nation’s capitol. Washington DC and the crowd here at the rally was unlike anything he could have dreamed up. The energy, the sheer volume of people; it was all invigorating. Ian woke up that morning like a shot, and for the entire day since he had felt like he was riding high on an adrenaline rush.

As the day progressed, the crowd slowly started to thin out. He and his friends were debating moving on, and Claire suggested they head to a bar to continue the celebration. Roger, the well-versed one in the group regarding anything in gay culture, suggested a bar he had heard about called Nob Hill, pulling out a map and showing where he had marked it off.

Nob Hill was the oldest gay bar in Washington DC. Carly wondered aloud if the name was a euphemism for a man polishing his knob, and the group broke up into loud laughter. As Ian turned away, still laughing to himself, he spotted a ghost. The laughter died on his lips as he took in  Mickey, standing facing him in full Army dress blues.

Mickey moved towards him, and Ian watched, taking him in and looking for any sign of his time in Vietnam. Except for a bright pink scar near his hairline that hadn’t been there before, Mickey looked the same. _It was unbelievable_. Something about Mickey was different, but Ian couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Something about the way he carried himself...  but just seeing that Mickey was okay was a rush of relief.

When Mickey finally stopped a few feet away from him, Ian gave him a few moments to situate himself before bridging the gap, moving close into Mickey’s space.

“Mick.” The name burst out of his throat before he could stop it, and Ian watched as Mickey reacted to hearing his own name.  He saw the subtle way Mickey’s jaw tensed, not from anger but from holding back. Or holding on. “You’re really here. You’re back.”

Ian watched how Mickey drew in his breath before responding. “I’m back.”

It was two simple words, their meaning probably innocuous. But it set off a flurry in Ian’s mind, and sent his heart banging like a drum in his chest. Mickey was back, but what did that mean exactly? What was different and what was the same? Did any of it really matter anyway? There were so many reasons Mickey had left, most of them unspoken. Did his return mean anything had changed there?

Ian didn’t know any of the answers, but he did know he couldn’t go through that pain again. He needed to use some of the perspective he had gained during their separation, and not allow himself to blindly fall back into the Ian of yesteryear. He steeled himself, tamping down his emotions, and pushing them under the surface.

If Mickey wanted to be an Army man, Ian would address him like one.

“Welcome home, soldier. Glad to see you made it back.”

He tried to walk away then, leave the situation in his past at least knowing that Mickey was safe and sound. As he turned to leave, Mickey stopped him in his tracks. If Mickey had just asked him to wait, he may have been able to keep walking. But when Mickey said please, the words froze him in place. The Mickey who had left him in Chicago would never have said that. For that alone, Ian needed to hear him out. What did Mickey want from him? Wasn’t the pain the first time around enough?

With the sight of the knife resting on Mickey’s palm, Ian understood. It was the piece of the puzzle he had long needed. He finally knew what he really meant to Mickey. The fact that Mickey had kept the knife, that it was still with him despite whatever he had been through, in all that lost time that had echoed between them; it was all proof of Mickey’s feelings for him. The way Mickey carried it on him, even now. It cracked Ian’s resolve, and all of the feelings that he had stifled since the day Mickey left bubbled up towards the surface.

“We were going to get some drinks at this bar, Nob Hill. Do you want to come with us?” Ian asked softly. He couldn’t let this be the end, not now.

Mickey agreed, and glanced at his friend for confirmation. The guy was watching them, not even attempting to hide his shock and fascination at what was unfolding in front of him. Ian smiled at him, then led them both over to his friends for introductions.

“Guys, this is Mickey and his friend…” He realized then that he didn’t know the answer, but Mickey’s friend was more than happy to supply it.

“I’m Sully.”

Ian went around and introduced Roger, Brian, Carly and Claire. When he reached Claire, she stepped forward and pulled Mickey into a hug. Everyone watched them in confusion and, to his credit, Mickey didn’t throw her off, instead stiffening up at the unexpected contact.

Claire was so excited to see him that she practically squealed over him. “You’re Mickey! I’ve sent good vibes into the universe for you every day!”

He looked at Ian questioningly. “Um… Thank you.”

Claire finally released Mickey, and the group started to walk in the direction of the bar. Mickey tugged lightly at Ian’s arm, urging him to keep pace with him a bit behind everyone else. They dawdled a bit until the group had gained a little distance on them. Sully had noticed them slowing down and had hastened his own pace and joined Ian’s friends.

They didn’t talk, just ambled side by side. Ian knew that the bar was a few miles from where they started, but he didn’t say anything about the distance. Ian had looked at the map early in the day when Roger was showing them where the bar was; he knew that if they stayed on this same street they would find it eventually, so he wasn’t concerned about losing track of their friends. He was just happy to be with Mickey.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it belied the fact that there was really so much to say. Ian didn’t even know where to begin.

“I… I missed you.” He mumbled finally, one of the only things he was sure of in this moment.

Mickey didn’t say anything, though he did stutter step when Ian spoke. Ian cursed himself for not keeping his mouth shut, and resolved to leave it alone. He trudged forward until suddenly, Mickey’s hand was around his wrist, pulling Ian into an alleyway between two buildings they were passing.

It wasn’t very late, but it was still early enough in the year that the sun was already setting for the day. The twilight afforded them the opportunity for a little extra privacy. Ian thought that Mickey was going to drop his pants or make a move on Ian, but he did something that Ian could never have anticipated.

Mickey hugged him.

He grabbed Ian and drew him near, one arm over Ian’s shoulders and the other around his waist. He felt Mickey’s fingers pressing into his back where they made contact, gripping him tightly. Ian wrapped his own arms around Mickey in response and they stood there, clinging to each other as if they were each other’s life preservers. Maybe they were. Just having Mickey here with him, pressed up against him, made Ian feel right in a way that he hadn’t felt since Mickey left. Ian pressed his face into Mickey’s shoulder, and a tear rolled down his cheek. He felt Mickey smell his shirt, heard Mickey breathing him in as deeply as he could, and thought of what Claire had said to him that first night they met.

_You know, they say that smell is the strongest sense related to memory. Maybe that’s what love is._

Maybe indeed.

Ian felt Mickey gently stroke his hair, and they broke apart. Mickey was composed, but his eyes were damp. When they had first seen each other that day, Ian had looked at Mickey checking for signs of damage. Now, Ian was looking at him appreciatively.

“Look at you in your dress blues.”

Mickey laughed, the sound so genuine and joyful that it made Ian laugh too. He watched Mickey’s face light up with it, his smile beaming, as if he had forgotten how to do it and was delighted to remember that he could.

Ian leaned in close and tilted his face down to graze his lips against Mickey’s ear. “We should go find our friends,” he whispered softly, regretfully.

He almost laughed at the resentful scowl on Mickey’s face, but held firm. Soon they were on their way again, walking close together, elbows knocking against each other every few steps. Each time Ian sneaked a glance at Mickey, he would find Mickey already looking back at him. The walk passed quickly, and it wasn’t long before they were entering Nob Hill and scanning the crowd for their group.

Sully had made himself right at home with Ian’s friends, and was involved in some intense flirting with Carly when the boys arrived. He barely spared them a glance. Mickey offered to get them some beers and Ian snagged a seat at the table the group had claimed. Claire leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Ian, I can’t believe he’s here. It’s fate! It was meant to be.”

He waved her off, but he did marvel that in a crowd of probably hundreds of thousands of people, in a city neither of them were from, they stumbled across each other. He didn’t know if it was fate, or coincidence, or just dumb luck. He was grateful for it, whatever it was.

Ian watched Mickey pacing by the bar, finally finding an opening to step up and order. He noticed something that he hadn’t seen when they were on their walk.

“Why is Mickey limping?” He asked, keeping his eyes trained on Mickey at the bar.

Sully pulled his attention away from Carly for a moment as he followed Ian’s gaze. “Oh, that happens to him sometimes when he’s on his feet more than he’s used to. From his injuries.”

Ian knew something had been off about Mickey’s stature when he first saw him. Now he knew that Mickey had been favoring his leg. “Injuries? What injuries?”

Sully gaze became unfocused as he started to tell them about Vietnam. “Our base got raided. We were forced out into the wilderness, must have been out there for about four or five days. Ran out of food, low on ammo and supplies, it looked bleak. We got ambushed. Out of our entire troop, only seven survived. The only reason we even made it out was because Mick heard the enemy and we made a run for it.”

The entire group was rapt with attention at Sully’s retelling of the events. “I was shot, bullet punctured my lung. Mick practically carried me, even when I begged him to leave me behind. I really thought I was a goner. He wouldn’t give up on me. I don’t know if it was us being friends or his medic training, but even after he got shot in the leg he still dragged me on. Right before we finally got rescued, there was an explosion. He flew back and hit his head right good. I was terrified, there was so much blood. Head wounds, y’know?”

Sully gestured to his own head for emphasis and Ian realized that was the same spot where he had noticed Mickey's scar. “Anyway, he also broke his leg and I don’t know if it just didn’t heal right or if it hasn’t been enough time but sometimes he gets a limp when he’s on the move a lot. “

Mickey walked up as Sully was finishing his explanation and it was clear from the sour expression on his face that he had caught enough to figure out what they were discussing. “You talkin’ about my fuckin' leg?”

Ian piped up, hoping that Mickey wasn’t upset. “That’s my fault, I noticed you were limping, Sully just explained why. That’s all.”

Mickey shifted, uncomfortable with all the eyes that were on him. “It’s not a big deal.”

Ian was about to argue that point, but Sully jumped in before he could. “I wish you’d stop downplaying shit. It _is_ a big deal. You saved my damn life, Mick. That’s why we’re here after all, so you can get your medals.”

Mickey held his hand up, clearly exasperated. “Enough. Not another fuckin’ word. I don’t want to talk about the fuckin’ war or anything related to it. Can we drop it?”

He and Sully glared at each other for a moment before Sully turned his attention back to Carly. After a few awkward moments, everyone slowly resumed what they had been doing.

Ian reached out tentatively and squeezed Mickey’s arm, releasing it just as fast. “You okay?”

He watched as Mickey took a long chug of his beer and put the glass down, finally nodding. “Yea, I’m fine man. I just don’t like talkin’ about all that.”

Ian nodded in response. He wasn’t going to push the issue. He knew it wouldn’t have the desired effect. He picked up his own beer and took a sip. “So tell me what’s been happening since you came home.”

The topic change worked, and soon Ian was hearing all about Mickey’s job, and Mandy’s jerk of a boyfriend, and everything in between. As Mickey relaxed, he and Ian gravitated closer together, neither one of them seeming to notice it. Their friends did, however. Claire saw Roger watching them and she sidled up next to him, patting his hand.

Roger kept observing them as he said, “It’s like they don’t know anyone else is even here, isn’t it?”

“They don’t,” Claire agreed.

He nodded slowly. “You were right on the nose about them.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder and he put a friendly arm around her, pulling her in for a hug.

They had moved on to discussing some of Ian’s adventures in New York when Sully came up behind Mickey and tapped him on the shoulder, cocking his head to indicate he wanted to pull Mickey aside for a moment. The two of them stepped off to the side and started talking. Ian watched as Mickey first looked confused, then touched, and finally amused. He grabbed Sully with one arm and pulled him in, giving him a brief hug and clapping him on the back before suddenly he and all of Ian’s friends left with a wave. Mickey walked back over with a smirk on his face.

Ian was dying to know what happened. “What was that all about?”

Mickey took a sip of his beer. “Said he was going with your friend Carly and not to expect him back tonight. Said since I had the room to myself I should take you back there and get on with what we’ve wanted to do to each other since we saw each other at the protest.” Mickey raised his eyebrows and eyed Ian, tongue darting at the corner of his mouth.

Ian leaned forward, intending to kiss Mickey, but Mickey jumped back quickly. Ian was amused but also a little irritated. He looked around pointedly, as a reminder that they were in a gay bar. Mickey seemed to do the same, bringing his eyes back to Ian and just staring with such intensity that for a moment, Ian really had no idea what kind of response Mickey would give him.

 

_ Mickey – Bread – If _

 

Mickey felt the hand tap his shoulder and turned to see Sully. He got up and followed his friend, who had stepped out of earshot of the group.

“What’s up?”

“We’re heading out. I’m staying with Carly tonight. You better take advantage of that hotel room and bring Ian back there.”

Mickey’s instinct was to argue, question, deny… but he knew that Sully was no fool and had him figured out. He didn’t say anything and Sully took the opportunity to continue.

“Mick, I don’t… I don’t understand it. But I don’t care. You’re still a brother to me.”

Mickey took a breath, not wanting to crumble into a sap there on the spot. Sully’s words meant a lot to him. There were few people in the world whose opinions meant anything to him. Ian, Mandy, sometimes Iggy… and Sully. His greatest fear was being shunned by any of them for who he was. He didn’t speak, just nodded.

Sully gave Mickey an out and lightened the moment; he knew Mickey wasn’t good with emotional circumstances. “No one gives a shit who you bang.”

Mickey shook his head and laughed, pulling Sully in for a quick hug. They broke apart and Sully sauntered back over to Carly, throwing a casual arm over her shoulder and escorting her out of the bar, the rest of Ian’s friends trailing behind with waves and their own smirks on their faces. Mickey would probably be more embarrassed at everyone knowing his agenda if he wasn’t so glad they were finally out of his hair.

When he relayed the story, he fully intended for it to be flirtatious. But when Ian responded in kind, his knee jerk reaction was to pull back. He watched as Ian scanned the room and then stared him down. Mickey looked around and knew just from reading the look in Ian’s eyes what he was trying to point out.

This was a safe space. Sure, Ian hadn’t come out and told Mickey this place was for people like them, but between the fact that Ian’s girlfriends were the only women there and the open affection and behavior of the other patrons, he had put it together. But Mickey had been so absorbed in Ian that he hadn’t thought all that hard about it.

Mickey stared at Ian then, so patient, so beautiful. He found himself looking at Ian’s lips, pink with the corners turned up in amusement. He wanted to feel those lips, and his want finally outweighed his nerves. In one swift move, Mickey moved into Ian’s space and pressed their lips together, his hand sliding up and around to the back of Ian’s neck, keeping him in place.

 _God_. It was everything Mickey had fantasized about on the rare occasion he let his mind wander there. He felt Ian’s hand on his own neck, long fingers brushing through the hair below his hat. He opened his mouth a little to catch his breath and Ian took the opportunity to lick in with his tongue. By the time they broke apart, Mickey was nearly panting.

“ _Fuck_. We need to get a cab back to the hotel, I can’t do that walk, I can’t wait that long.”

They jostled their way out of the bar, hands still on each other as they went to the pay phone outside the entrance. Mickey dialed the operator and got connected with a cab company that said they would be there shortly. While they waited, Mickey let Ian push him against the wall in the shadows and kiss him some more. He felt Ian’s hands straying towards his cock and slapped them away, not wanting to get too riled up before they got back to the hotel.

When the cab showed up, they slid into the backseat together and made pleasantries with the driver as they weaved through the city. Ian was trying hard to distract Mickey, sliding his hand over Mickey’s straining erection, and it took all of his reserve to keep it together. When the cab pulled up to their hotel, Mickey frantically pulled some bills out of his pocket and nearly tossed them over the divider into the front seat.

“Keep the change!” He yelled as they scrambled out of the cab, laughing and running towards the hotel entrance.

They entered the lobby and barely managed to walk past the concierge desk with straight faces before they were at the elevator bank. Mickey jabbed at the button, tapping his foot impatiently until they heard the ding and saw the doors open. They scrambled to get on the elevator and Ian backed him into the corner, his lips crashing on Mickey’s.

“Third floor,” Mickey mumbled through the kiss. “Hit the goddamn button.”

Ian pulled away from him long enough to hit the button before he was pressed up against Mickey again. By the time the elevator doors opened, they were both panting, and Mickey was fumbling around his pockets for the room key. He found it and yanked it out victoriously. He managed to get the door open and practically yanked Ian inside behind him.

For all of their hastiness, when they were finally alone, away from prying eyes and friends and the outside world, Mickey surged forward but Ian held him off, content to slow down and take it all in. They stood close, Mickey tilting his chin up to look at Ian as he reached up and slid Mickey’s hat off with both hands. He dropped it onto the dresser and looked at Mickey’s scar, seeing it fully for the first time, how it retreated under Mickey’s hair.

Ian’s touch skimmed lightly over the scar and he gently pressed his lips to it. Mickey closed his eyes. He felt Ian’s fingers tracing a path down his neck and along the collar of his uniform jacket. Ian slowly unbuttoned it while kissing Mickey’s jaw. His touch was reverent, and it burned a path up Mickey’s chest as Ian slid his hands under the jacket and pushed it off Mickey’s shoulders.

Mickey felt like he was on fire, his lust increasing with every touch and press of Ian’s lips. Teeth bit lightly at Mickey’s earlobe, as fingers unbuttoned his dress shirt, tugging it up to untuck it. Those same fingers ghosted lightly over the pale skin above his waistband, barely grazing his flesh as they traced lazy swirls there. Mickey’s erection was bordering on painful, and he was on the verge of begging for release.

Mickey opened his eyes and searched Ian’s face, memorizing the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He noticed the touch of gold around Ian's pupils and marveled over it. _Was that always there or is it that I'm only just noticing it now?_ He pulled Ian close and kissed him urgently. Mickey walked backwards, pulling Ian tight against him, until his own knees hit the bed behind him. He fell back, dragging Ian on top of him, and spreading his legs so Ian lay between them.

Ian’s erection was pressed against him and Mickey reached down to fumble with Ian’s pants. He pulled down the zipper and slid his hand inside the opening to grasp Ian’s cock. Mickey began stroking him in a steady rhythm, and it wasn’t long before Ian gave up on his measured pace, bucking his hips in time with Mickey’s motions, both of them building speed before they started pulling each others clothes off in a frenzy.

Afterwards, Mickey didn’t remember a lot of the finer details. So much time had passed since they had been together, and neither of them were able to hold out very long. The sex was good, great even, that much he knew. But their togetherness wasn’t even about that, not really. He had missed Ian; had missed him down to his core. Being back in his presence brought Mickey a level of comfort that he had almost forgotten.

When they were finished Mickey lay still, feeling thoroughly spent. There was no fighting or pulling away when Ian tangled his limbs around Mickey’s. He didn’t push Ian off him when their legs intertwined together in the sheets. Mickey finally had a chance to run his fingers through Ian's copper hair and he did, tangling them in Ian's curls. He slept deeply for the first time in years.

Mickey woke up in the early morning, the room bathed in just a hint of light from the sun that hadn’t fully risen yet. He was cold, and realized that Ian wasn’t wrapped around him anymore. He rolled onto his back and leaned up on his elbows, not wanting to sit up and face the day just yet. He saw Ian sitting at the foot of the bed, legs curled up against his chest, watching Mickey apprehensively. He could see that Ian wanted to say something, knew him well enough to recognize the signs, and he waited until Ian couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

Ian waved his hand between them, and asked quietly, “What happens now?”

Mickey knew what Ian was asking, knew there were an unlimited amount of questions underneath it that were all variations of the same point. What would happen with them tomorrow, and the day after that? Where would this go? He didn’t know. He didn’t know how or why or when, but he knew one thing; he finally had Ian back, and he wasn’t ready to let go of him... Even if he didn’t know how to answer his question. So he held out his hand, hoping that Ian would understand his point.

As he reached towards Ian, Mickey replied, “We’ll figure it out.”

Ian stared at him, then dropped his gaze down to Mickey’s hand. Mickey could almost hear the thoughts buzzing around in his mind as Ian turned it over and over. Mickey didn’t ask, didn’t press him. He had waited long enough, what was a minute more? Besides, he knew Ian, and Ian would talk when he was ready.

Ian reached out and took Mickey’s hand.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my wonderful, amazingly patient beta Sophie aka [mapswindsor](http://mapswindsor.tumblr.com) and my artist Keliana aka [theunforgivngminute](http://theunforgivngminute.tumblr.com). 
> 
> If I griped to any of you during the process, I thank you for listening to me. You can find me hanging out on Tumblr [here](http://grumblesandmumbles.tumblr.com).


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